


one door closes, another opens

by isabilightwood



Series: there are no endings, only new beginnings [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Minor Character Death, Order 66, Padmé Amidala Lives, Parallel Universes, Satine Kryze Lives, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-04-16 09:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14162259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabilightwood/pseuds/isabilightwood
Summary: Ahsoka runs through a portal in the Lothal Jedi Temple, and finds herself seventeen years in the past. Only to find everything is slightly different - her seventeen-year-old past self was just executed, Obi-wan is missing, and Anakin fell eight months early, prompting Order 66 just after her arrival. With only her questionably useful knowledge of the Empire as a guide, Ahsoka finds herself helping to build a rebellion from scratch. Again. But this time, with a few more Jedi left in the galaxy. Some of whom could cause more problems than they solve.





	1. Ahsoka

Ahsoka opened her eyes in darkness. Not pitch blackness, but close to it. If she were not force sensitive, she would have no idea which way was up or down. She could feel cold stone beneath her back, and a chill in the air she would normally associate with a Sith, with Dooku way back when, or -- Wait, shouldn’t she be back on Malachor? She remembered Morai leading her back through the door from the Lothal Temple.

Malachor. Anakin. His blade raised to cut her down, as she buried her own in the floor, intending to bring the temple down upon their heads. She would have died, at Anakin’s hands, if Morai had not led Ezra to save her. While she was concerned for the disruption in the timeline her survival represented, Ahsoka couldn’t manage to feel disappointed that she was still alive. Obi-wan would have been so disappointed in her.

She automatically felt at her belt for her lightsabers. When she felt them both in place on her belt, she paused. Ahsoka distinctly remembered leaving her sabers embedded in the floor of the Sith temple, yet here they were. Okay then. Stranger things had happened. It was no use lying there on the ground for the rest of eternity contemplating their reappearance. She sat up, reaching out into the force to sense her surroundings. And stopped, retreating back into herself.

The force was … warmer than she could remember it being. Fuller, in a way she hadn’t felt since the 501st turned on her, when Ahsoka and Rex faked their deaths. Since the Jedi Order was wiped out. Impossible.

And she couldn’t feel Morai anywhere.

Right, well. She let her trepidation go. Time to figure out what was going on. Ahsoka reached out into the force again, allowing the warmth to wash over her and guide her movements. There were stairs leading upwards to her left. She swung her arms over her head and stretched before starting her climb.

She wasn’t sure how long she climbed before she finally approached a door with a crack of light underneath. She examined it with the force, only for it to swing open with the lightest tough of her mind. She stepped through and stopped dead. Now this really was impossible. Her eyes must be deceiving her, because this looked exactly like the Jedi temple of her youth. Or rather, the temple of the clone wars – the Jedi sparse, but their presence evident, the occasional Padawan running errands or knight engrossed in a holocron without watching where they were going.

But it couldn’t be. Ahsoka instinctively cloaked her presence, disappearing from the senses of any around her. Whatever cruel trick this was, she didn’t intend to be taken in by it. Obi-wan and Anakin would have told her to spring the trap. It was a method she usually adopted more judiciously.

The best way to figure out what was going on here would be to find out from the source. The Jedi High Council Room, or the Throne Room. If this was some trick of the Emperor’s, that was where she’d find him. Ahsoka had never paid much attention to the then-supreme chancellor when she was a Padawan, despite her old master’s friendship with the Sith. She wished that she had, not for the first time. If she could have done something by just paying more attention – but no, it would do no good to dwell on the past. She took a few breaths to center herself before striding confidently ahead. No one so much as glanced at her.

The Council Room was empty, save for Master Yoda, hovering above his seat, deep in meditation. Once that had been a familiar sight. Yoda was alive, or had been not long ago. Could this be some vision he was granting her?

“Master Yoda,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

“This, what is?” Yoda peeked open his eyes, and she felt his shock through the force for a fraction of a second. It was the most emotion Ahsoka had ever felt from the ancient troll. “Dead, young Padawan Tano is. But here, she stands. Older, she seems.”

_What?_

Yoda smacked her with his cane. “Ow!” she yelped. It seemed memory had dulled the sting of his cane, because that had _really hurt_.

“Solid, you are.” Master Yoda tilted his head in that distinctly Master Yoda way. “But dead, Ahsoka Tano is.”

“What?” Ahsoka said, rubbing at her leg. “I’m obviously not dead, but thanks for smacking me to prove it. Really brings back memories. But tell me. Why does the force feel so … full? And like it’s waiting for something. Why are we here? This looks like the temple. But it can’t be.”

“Confused, I am. Executed, one hour ago, Ahsoka Tano was,” Yoda’s ears twitched mournfully. “Bombed the temple, she did.”

Ahsoka’s brain was clearly not working because that was – again – impossible. It had been over sixteen years since she left the order. She definitely would have remembered being falsely executed. Not to mention – “No, when that happened, sixteen years ago, Anakin found the culprit at the last minute. Barriss Offee framed me,” Ahsoka laughed harshly, a hint of hysteria peeking through. “She thought the war was corrupting us, blinding us to the force, but she had the source wrong. I left the Order, of course. But you should know that, Master Yoda, you were there.” She was definitely missing something here.

“Strange, this is,” Yoda visibly slumped. She caught a sense of confusion in the force, laced with exhaustion, more than she’d ever felt from Yoda in the past. She wasn’t sure if it was because her ability with the force had grown more refined over the years, or it was a testament to how tired the Grandmaster was. “Happen, this did not. Know how here you are, I do not. When, you think this is?”

“When? 15 years after the fall of the republic, obviously.” Ahsoka spoke slowly, incredulously. What was he getting at?

“The Republic, fallen, you say,” Yoda’s ears twitched forward like he had a new idea. “Not fallen, the republic has.”

“Of course the republic fell!” She hadn’t hallucinated the past sixteen years of desperation, feeling everyone she loved die all at once, fumbling her way into building a rebellion from scratch, learning the Master she had never stopped mourning had never deserved her tears. But not being able to _stop caring._ Ahsoka took a moment to center herself again and – It dawned on her that, crazy as it sounded, this might be real.

But time travel? To another universe or dimension where she had died at seventeen? What in the force? “You say I was executed? And there’s no empire – yet.” Yoda inclined his head. “Master Yoda, I think I’m in the wrong timeline."

“Hmmm…” The ancient Jedi master closed his eyes, pondering that revelation. If it was that, and this wasn’t some Sith-inspired hallucination. “Unprecedented, this is. Investigate, we must.”

“I’m not sure we have time. But – can I speak to Master Obi-wan?” If there was one-person Ahsoka could trust in any timeline, it was her grandmaster. She wasn’t young enough to believe he’d have some miraculous solution to everything, but if there was a solution to all of this, she’d feel better working it through with him.

Yoda’s head dipped in sorrow. Ahsoka didn’t need the force to tell her she should have a bad feeling about what he said next. “Missing, Master Obi-wan is. Left against orders, he did. Rescued the Duchess of Mandalore, he did.”

“Satine’s alive?” That was the first bit of good news she’d had from this new timeline, if that was in fact what this was. “But then, why isn’t Obi-wan here? Shouldn’t the Duchess have come here to argue her case before the senate?”

“Refused sanctuary on Coruscant, the Duchess was.” Disapproval dripped from each word. “Left without contacting the council, Obi-wan did.”

That didn’t sound like Obi-wan. Or rather, it _did_ , but like something he would normally do out of range of council orders and claim was Anakin’s idea. Could the Duchess’s survival be what, however indirectly, caused her counterpart’s death? Had this universe’s Anakin been too distracted by Obi-wan’s disappearance to succeed in his investigation? What _would_ her counterpart’s death do to Anakin? That was… more than a little worrisome. “Master Yoda… in my timeline, about eight months from now, Anakin Fell. I don’t know why, I only found out the masked Sith _was_ him a few months ago. But if my counterpart was executed? He’ll blame the council.” And for something they _were_ at fault for, even more worryingly, she didn’t say. “Palpatine will use that.”

“Palpatine, you say,” Yoda quirked his head inquisitively. “The Sith Lord, he is?”

“Yes.” Ahsoka replied.

“Just called to report to the chancellor, Master Windu and Master Tinn were.” As though the future emperor had been waiting for exactly that statement, thousands of lights in the force screamed and went out and a devastatingly familiar wave reverberated through the force. Thousands of Jedi dead.

Millions of men turned into droids in an instant.

“Order 66,” Ahsoka whispered. Impossible. But… if the force was giving her another chance somehow. If this wasn’t a hallucination. She could at least try to make things better. But as Yoda always said, there was no try. She could only do. “Master Yoda, you may not trust me. But believe me on this: you have to evacuate the younglings. _That_ was the fall of the Jedi Order. Palpatine will be declaring himself emperor right now. And my old master will be on his way here to finish the job. I’ll secure the hanger – bring as many younglings as you can.”

If her younger self could see her now, she’d be horrified to witness Ahsoka giving orders to the Grandmaster. But Ahsoka didn’t have time to consider how strange the situation was. Yoda nodded, and began to rise from his seat. Ahsoka was out the door before he had placed a single foot on the floor.

Ahsoka ran through the temple, trusting her feet to remember the way to the hanger. The 501st – and force, Rex wasn’t on Mandalore, wouldn’t have known to remove his chip yet, but she couldn’t waste time thinking about that now – would be marching on the temple any moment, if they weren’t already. _Anakin_ would be on his way, ready to slaughter younglings and damn himself forever.

Lost in her thoughts, Ahsoka ran right into a Padawan. Kriff, she shouldn’t have allowed herself to get distracted. The human boy sputtered as he recovered from being knocked to the ground. A human woman she assumed was the boy’s master was a step behind – Depa Bilaba, a distant memory supplied. Which meant – Kanan? Or whatever her friend’s birth name was.

“Where are you rushing to, Master?” he asked, dusting himself off and exuding a desperate attempt to appear calm. “Do you know what that was?”

“The end of the Jedi Order,” She replied simply. “Come with me, I’m going to secure the hanger for evacuation.”

“Hold up, who are you?” Master Bilaba asked, no doubt suspicious of the supposed Jedi Master she didn’t recognize.

“Do you want an explanation or do you want to live another day?” Ahsoka took off down the hall again, this time with a Jedi Master and a past-and-hopefully-future friend following-after.

The hanger was surprisingly empty. Evidence of the recent bombing had been quickly removed, many of the ships replaced and supply crates restocked. There was no sign of clone troopers, which she hoped was a sign they hadn’t arrived yet. That Anakin hadn’t arrived yet. She scanned the ships for something suitable. Any of the light freighters would do for her, but for the younglings, something better shielded and viable long-term would be necessary.

She ran to the inventory terminal and searched for a fully repaired ship that would suit their needs. One of the freighters had been modified for increased shielding, probably by initiates learning the ropes. It would do for the younglings. She selected an XS stock light freighter for herself for the maneuverability and firepower that would be necessary to run the blockade she suspected was forming above the planet. A hammerhead corvette would be much more effective, but wishing for a ship model that hadn’t been designed yet would help no one. She unlocked the ships in question from the system, bringing down the entry ramps.

“Start stocking that ship with as many supply and medical crates as you can. We’ll have to be quick. The clones have been turned against us, and we’re on a limited time schedule to evacuate the younglings. Master Yoda will be escorting them here as soon as possible.” Ahsoka began to do just that, lifting two crates at a time into the freighter with the force. It took them a moment, but Master Bilaba joined in, shushing little Padawan Kanan when he attempted to ask something in protest.

They had just completed stocking the youngling’s ship and moved a few supply crates on board her own when the hanger doors banged open, admitting a squadron of the 501st. Given her luck, it made all too much sense that it was Torrent Squadron, Rex with his all-too-familiar Jagg eyed helmet in the lead.

She had summoned his blaster and set it to stun before she realized what she was doing. Three prepared Jedi could take out a single squadron of clones with little problem, and Ahsoka knew they had little choice but to do so. Master Bilaba and Kanan were already engaging, deflecting bolts back and taking out their attackers. Ahsoka would save those she could. Ahsoka shot, and brought Rex down. Again, and Kix was unconscious. Jesse went down with a shot to the shoulder. She kept firing until all the clones were down, either knocked out or dead. She pulled Rex and Kix towards her with the force and checked to make sure they were alive before loading both onto her XS freighter, leaving them bound in the tiny med bay. There wouldn’t be enough room for more, especially if the two Jedi were coming with her to man the canons.

But maybe, if she could save Rex _and_ Kix, something could be done for the clones before Palpatine used them up and threw them away that none of them had been in a position to do the first time around.

“Why did you just do that?” Kanan shouted, fire in his eyes. “They were attacking us!”

“They didn’t have a choice!” Ahsoka drew one of her lightsabers, and held it at the ready for the next wave.

“And you’re somehow giving them one?” Master Bilaba could give Obi-wan lessons in how to keep calm under pressure.

“That’s the idea,” She winked at the human woman. Apparently, she was taking a page from Obi-wan’s book on how-to-flirt-with-everyone mid-fight now. Where had that come from? And where in the entire kriffing galaxy _was Obi-wan_?

She fell back into battle stance at signs of movement in the doorway, her lightsaber and blaster both at the ready, only to relax immediately. Several dozen younglings rushed into the hanger, several of them carrying the order’s few infant foundlings. Master Fisto took up the rear with Yoda riding on his shoulders.

“Master Yoda!” Ahsoka called, and pointed towards the intended transport. “That ship is supplied and just needs to be prepped for takeoff!”

“Board the ship, the younglings must,” Yoda jumped down nimbly, and began shooing the younglings towards the ship. “With them, you should go, Master Fisto.”

“Master Yoda, I –,“ Kit Fisto protested, his hand twitching towards his lightsaber.

“Fly the ship, someone must,” Yoda patted him on the back. “Provide defense, Master Bilaba and Master Tano will.” Ahsoka was sure the title he granted her was meant to insure Master Fisto acted quickly, without wasting valuable time. But the title that had never been meant for her still sent a pang through her heart. “Old, I am. Raise the younglings, you must. Somewhere hidden, may I suggest?”

“They won’t find us. May the force be with you, Master Yoda,” Master Fisto bowed before following the Grandmaster’s orders. It was clear he knew this was likely a final goodbye.

“Go quickly, you should.” Yoda had already turned back towards the door, lightsaber lit and at the ready.

She nodded, respecting his sacrifice. Her timeline’s Yoda probably hadn’t had the chance to sacrifice himself to save what remained of the order. This one could do nothing else. “May the force be with you,” she said, and turned to run on board her XS freighter. She heard Master Bilaba and Kanan echo her before following.

Ahsoka ran through the pre-flight checks quickly, and set the hyperdrive computer to calculate a course to Nar Shadda, with several jumps in between. Nowhere she could think of was a better place to disappear. And it was hardly a place anyone would expect to find Jedi.  As she switched on the engines, she felt him approaching. Vader. The last time she saw the monster Anakin Skywalker had made himself into, she had promised not to leave him again, and then done so almost immediately. But this time was different. She’d stolen his prey, and had no intention to let him have them. It didn’t hurt that it was much harder to blame herself for his fall when this timeline’s version had fallen after her wrongful execution. He’d fallen despite her not willingly leaving. Ahsoka knew she’d find a way to blame herself later anyway, but for now she had a purpose. She gunned the engines and her ship sped out of the hanger on the heels of the youngling’s transport.

She had been right about a blockade forming above the planet. But they might just have been quick enough. The star destroyers above Coruscant hadn’t finished closing all the gaps, and weren’t expecting an attack from below. They were upon the blockade by the time the first starfighters caught up. Ahsoka weaved around the transport, trusting Master Bilaba and Kanan to shoot their attackers down.

The starfighters were painted the colors of the 104th, which meant they were likely fighting Commander Wolffe. Plo Koon’s commander had never particularly liked her, had kept Rex from answering her messages for years, but he and Rex had always been close. She hoped they didn’t have to shoot him down.

Kanan took out two fighters in quick succession, despite how jerkily Ahsoka was flying to draw fire towards them and away from the younglings. He whooped, the grin on his face mirrored the one she knew was on her own. No wonder he had worked so well with Hera, if he could aim like that at fourteen. Master Bilaba looked rather green, but managed to take out several of the clone’s starfighters anyway. A few shots got through to the transport, but the shields held. Her ship scored a hit, setting alarms blaring, but it seemed superficial.

All at once they were through, and Master Fisto’s ship disappeared into hyperspace. They’d given the younglings the best chance they could. All they could do now was save themselves, and hope Master Fisto would be able to evade attention. Kanan took out one last starfighter, and she sent the ship into hyperspace. They were safe, for the next few hours. As one, Ahsoka and the two Jedi slumped in relief.

“Umm…. Masters? Is there something to eat?” a young-sounding voice came from behind them. They whorled to face its source. The speaker was a familiar human boy she thought she vaguely remembered, with a Tholothian girl standing behind him and glaring at the back of his head.

“Kriff,” Ahsoka fell back in her seat.

“Tell me there aren’t more of you,” Master Bilaba said, somehow sounding warm and icy cold at the same time. When they shook their heads sheepishly, she sighed and turned to her Padawan. “Caleb, get them something to eat.”

Kanan – Caleb – made a face and headed down to the cargo bay, the younglings trailing after him.

“I’m going to check on our passengers,” Ahsoka said. “Then I’ll be happy to explain whatever you want to know.” She wouldn’t be, exactly. But Master Bilaba had put her trust in a complete stranger, so Ahsoka supposed she owed it to her.

Master Bilaba nodded and turned in her chair to stare out at hyperspace, the façade of calm falling from her face for the first time. She looked devastated. A feeling Ahsoka understood all too well. She left the Jedi alone to her grief. It was time to get her friend back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 is complete, I'm just editing some of the later chapters. Will be updated Saturdays.
> 
> I started writing this just before the last few episodes of Rebels, not expecting it to be made way more plausible by only a minor adjustment to the first chapter - thanks for the canon time travel, Filoni!
> 
> I don't know much about Legends, this is only based on Canon material. 
> 
> I'm also isabilightwood on tumblr


	2. Vader

Darth Vader stalked through the temple that had been his prison for years. There were far fewer defenders than there should have been, even with the temple already depleted for the war. Had they been warned somehow? Had an evacuation been organized? He cut down a Zabrak Knight who made the mistake of attempting to engage him.

He reached the council room, which was – unexpectedly empty. Vader had known it would be before he opened the door, but where else would the Jedi traitors take refuge but in the false security of the Council? Yet not a single Jedi, not even the troll, was inside. His rage grew, the red in his vision darkening to a deep scarlet. He would not fail in his mission.

Someone came at him from behind. Vader blocked the hit and disengaged to see his opponent. Just another temple guard. It was the work of a few moments to dispatch him. Had the hanger been repaired already? If so, that would be logical place to flee to. He started through the winding hallways of the temple with a new destination in mind.

Vader paused by the Halls of Healing. A group of force signatures huddled inside, emanating fear. He kicked in the door and strode through the empty waiting room and along the hallway lined with evaluation rooms, stopping at the one door towards the back that was the source of the fear.

Kicking that door open as well, he found a dozen or so younglings crowded into the small space. A Nautolan initiate held his ground before them, lightsaber ignited, but shaking. Vader thought this might be one of the initiates Ahsoka had taken to Illum only a few short weeks earlier. That wouldn’t save him.

All the Jedi were corrupt, and it was Vader’s duty to wipe them out. Even, and especially, Obi-wan Kenobi. A voice in a tiny, bright corner of his mind whispered that Ahsoka would never want this, would stare at him in fear, and grief, and disappointment. But Vader pushed that part of himself down, drowning it in a new rush of anger.

Ahsoka was dead, and it was all the Jedi’s fault.

The initiate put up a better fight than any of the knights Vader had so easily dispatched. The boy blocked Vader’s first swing, but was sent flying back into the wall, only to climb quickly back to his feet. “Run!” he yelled, charging back at Vader with a strong, but clumsy swing. Vader easily knocked him to the ground.

“Brave little youngling,” Vader growled, his tone intended to strike more fear into the cowering younglings. “Bravery won’t help you now.”

The younglings didn’t move. Vader, still standing in the doorway, was blocking their only way out. They would only die faster if they attempted to get past him.

The Nautolan boy made a last-ditch effort, swinging his saber at Vader’s legs. Vader deflected the blow casually, pushing back on the boy’s blade until it flew out of his grasp. Vader didn’t stop his swing from continuing its path through the boy’s neck. His boy stiffened and fell to the ground, the now detached head rolling across the floor.

The younglings screamed and whimpered. A few tried to rush him. Vader made quick work of them all.

He resumed his path to the hanger, delayed only by a few more guards, none of them real opponents.

The doors of the hanger gaped open. Vader caught sight of a XS freighter disappearing into the sky. He was too late to catch them himself, but expected the 104th above the planet would take care of that problem for him. The only Jedi who would have had a chance against the elite clone battalion were Skywalker, Ahsoka, and Plo Koon. All three of whom were already dead, the last of them at the hands of his own men.

His rage reignited at the sight of Yoda standing over the bodies of Vader’s men. Vader charged the Order’s Grandmaster, only for the little troll to fly over his head and attack him from behind. Vader didn’t think Skywalker had ever seen Yoda fight, though he knew the troll had held his own against Dooku on Geonosis. Vader would not make the mistake of underestimating him again.

Their blades clashed, and clashed again. Yoda converted the backlash of each blow into momentum for his next flip over Vader’s head. The acrobatics were clearly meant to keep him off balance. To Vader’s consternation, the strategy was working.

“Strong in the force, you may be, young Skywalker,” Yoda flipped away to land on the ground some feet away before springing forward to engage him again. “But weak in the mind.”

Vader grunted as the troll spun over his head again. The compulsion to retort was too strong to ignore. “Who’s the weak one here? Me? Or you, who caved to the demands of a sleemo like Tarkin without bothering to investigate?” Vader swung his saber wildly, Yoda evaded with ease. “Ahsoka is _dead_ because of you! Obi-wan is _gone_ because you were too cowardly to go against the senate to help a planet in need! So much for the Jedi Code!”

“True, this may be,” Yoda came in high again, before suddenly dropping to the ground. “Allow your grief to control you, you should not have. Kill the light, you cannot.”

“Too late, old man –” Vader realized why Yoda had switched tactics only when his blade stopped millimeters from Vader’s thighs. The ancient troll’s body jerked once and collapsed to the ground, a smoking hole in his forehead. Vader nudged the body with his foot in confusion.

A clone – Jesse, that small part of him Vader _was ignoring, go away_ reminded him – was sitting up, his blaster still pointed at the empty space Yoda had been.

Hatred clouded his vision. Vader’s fist closed on the air before him. Yoda had been _his_ to kill. The clone choked and jerked in mid-air, his hands grasping uselessly at his throat for a long moment before going limp. Vader let the clone’s body drop to the floor, forgotten.

Other clones had climbed to their feet in the meantime. When he took notice of them, they saluted him. Someone was missing, someone who wasn’t among the dead on the floor. Someone who should have been at the squadron’s head. _Rex_.

“What are your orders, sir?” One of the clones – _Fives –_ asked without inflection. There was something wrong about that too. The troopers Anakin knew would never watch him murder one of their brothers and then calmly ask for orders. Vader stamped down hard on the voice.

“Keep searching the temple,” Vader ordered. “I have more important things to attend to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Qui-gon can become a force ghost years after his death, Yoda definitely can.


	3. Padmé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé's world falls apart, but she's not eight months pregnant and has a galaxy to save.

Padmé returned from the Senate with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness nestled in her heart. The Republic, fallen. The Jedi, gone. It refused to sink in. She had only scarcely admitted her concerns over the Chancellor’s growing emergency powers to Bail, since the chancellor had stopped promising to return those powers to the Senate or the people at the conclusion of the war. She had assumed the Emergency Powers were going to his head, that he was desperate to end the war, and prevent another from occurring. Never had she suspected her old mentor Palpatine of anything like this.

An Empire. Built upon the ashes of democracy and the bodies of the Jedi and millions of others around the galaxy. Was Ani – no, she couldn’t think about her husband’s fate. Not now. Not unless she wanted to collapse into her grief. And she couldn’t. Not while there might still be something she could do. Padmé stumbled down the steps to one of the side balconies overlooking Coruscant, and leaned against the railing.

It couldn’t be true. This was a nightmare.

This wasn’t a nightmare. She had to _do_ something.

There might not be anything she _could_ do. At least not now.

Padmé fell to her knees and let the tears that had been waiting to burst free for hours roll down her cheeks. For the Republic. The Galaxy. The Jedi. Ani. For the illusion of a better future she had only been deluding herself was possible. Padmé lost all sense of time as she sat, shaking with silent sobs, before the panoramic view of a city as yet unaware of the horror that had just been imposed upon it, even while the Jedi Temple burned. A horror Padmé herself had enabled. More than enabled. She was directly responsible for Chancellor – _Emperor_ Palpatine’s rise to power.

Had he been planning this takeover all those years ago? He must have been.

It was that realization that compelled her tears to subside. Emptiness threatened to slip back in, and she struggled against it. She couldn’t march into Palpatine’s office and demand his resignation. That would only get her arrested, perhaps executed, if Ahsoka’s unwarranted, poorly investigated conviction was anything to go by. Anakin must be shattered.

If he was still alive. Force, please let him be alive. Padmé had never put much faith in the force beyond its use by the Jedi, but if it did her this one favor, she might be convinced.

“Padmé?” Great. Now she was imagining her husband’s voice. Familiar hands wrapped around her shoulders, one flesh, one metal, pulling her back against the warmth of his chest. She didn’t move, afraid that if she turned around her Anakin would prove to be as much an illusion as everything else she’d every believed in. “Padmé, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Padmé asked, incredulous. “Haven’t you heard? Only everything.”

He only tightened his embrace. Padmé turned to press her face into his chest, and allowed Ani to comfort her. He guided her back into the bedroom. When the back of her thighs pushed against the bed, she fell backwards into the soft cushions, pulling Anakin down on top of her. She kissed him desperately, and allowed him to make the world go away for a while.

Afterwards, as she lay in the safety of her husband’s arms, the day’s horrors came crashing back in on her. “How can this have happened?” She asked, desperate for an explanation, for all of this to have been a terrible nightmare.

“The Jedi were corrupt all along,” The man who _looked_ and _sounded_ like her husband said. But he must be a changeling. Her Ani wouldn’t say that. “They killed Ahsoka. They tried to kill the Emperor. So, I killed them.  But don’t worry the Emperor will fix everything.”

Padmé jerked out of his arms in shock.  “Killed them? You?” Her voice was shrill. She couldn’t feel anything beyond the pounding of her heart.

“Well, the clones got most of them,” His tone was dismissive, as though he was remarking on the weather, and not genocide. “I just handled the temple.”

“The Temple?” She parroted. Then, she realized. “The _younglings?_ ”

“Those I could find.” He shrugged, and got out of bed to begin pulling on his clothes. “Yoda conspired to get a few younglings off Coruscant before I could find them. Those got past the blockade somehow. But I got Yoda.”

“ _You_ killed the Grandmaster? And _Younglings_ ” Padmé’s couldn’t think, her mind completely blank.

“I just said that, didn’t I?” He smiled, the same patient smile Anakin always used when Padmé ranted about the intransigence of the Senate. Now twisted into something grotesque. “Anyway, I’m being sent to deal with the Separatist leaders now. _Peace,_ Padmé. The Emperor is bringing us _peace._ It’ll all be over soon.” He grinned excitedly, resembling nothing more than a murderous puppy. “I’m leaving a contingent of the 501st to guard you. _They’re_ not taking you from me too.

Padmé sat frozen as the man who had been her husband smiled softly, and left her with a kiss. No, no, it wasn’t possible! Not her Ani! Her Ani wouldn’t kill _younglings_. This was just a nightmare. That was proof.

_Wouldn’t he?_ A treacherous part of her asked. _Are you sure? Didn’t he slaughter those Tuskens after they killed his mother? Including the innocent children?_ And Padmé had merely comforted him, trusted him never to do anything like that again. Who was to say he _wouldn’t_ do this in the wake of Ahsoka’s death? The Jedi were all too convenient scapegoats. And hadn’t he always waxed poetic about dictatorship.

No. Not always. Not as a child. That was worrying on a different level, too. How long had her old mentor been orchestrating this? Had his mentorship of Anakin always been leading him here?

 Force, who had she married? Was her Ani even real? Had this monster been hiding beneath the man who brought her favorite takeout when he was exhausted from a long flight back the front? The man who joked with Obi-wan and patiently taught Ahsoka everything he knew? That man _had_ beaten Clovis within an inch of his life for attempting to kiss her.

But no. Padmé believed her Ani was real. Needed to believe it. Palpatine had stolen him, twisted him. He was still in there, still good. Padmé would bring him back. But how could she do that, when Palpatine would no doubt seek to prevent it? Would Palpatine even let her live?

Logic said no. Padmé was living on borrowed time, unless she could find a loophole.

Padme was jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of her holoprojector chirping. It was Bail. She answered automatically. The tiny, blue replica of her friend flickered into life.

“Padmé,” Bail said, looking as tired and worn as she felt. “I have something you need to see. Can you meet me at my office?”

“Of course, Bail,” She replied, though she had a sneaking suspicion what it was about. “I’ll be right there.” Padmé dressed quickly, in a tunic and leggings rather than any of her senatorial garb. This was not a time for ornamentation. She grabbed her emergency supply of credits and a datapad on impulse.

As she left her apartment, she was shadowed by two members of Anakin’s 501st Battalion, their helmets on and silent. None of the joking between themselves Padmé had noted in the little time she spent around any of the clones. Something was wrong about that too.

She stopped in the middle of the hallway, reaching a conclusion she hadn’t known she was considering. She quickly checked her travel status – restricted to Coruscant. That settled things then. Making a quick call to handmaiden, Sabé, she began setting her barely formed plan in motion.

Sabé was already waiting in Bail’s office when Padmé arrived. Thankfully, the clone troopers remained outside without protest. Bail locked the door behind her and gestured at the jammer on his desk to indicate it was safe to talk as he settled back behind his desk.

She collapsed into the unoccupied seat next to Sabé. “Force, Bail. They applauded,” Her voice sounded raw to her own ears. “How could they have applauded?”

He shrugged helplessly and ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I guess we both thought too highly of our colleagues.” Or maybe the galaxy as a whole. “But I saw – You’ll have to see the footage to believe it. Don’t ask how I got it. I’m so sorry, Padmé.”

He handed her a datapad, with a recording paused on an image of the stairs to the Jedi Temple queued up. So, she had been right about why he called her. Padmé braced herself for its contents.

A Padawan ran out and attacked a squadron of clone troopers, only to be cut down by blaster fire. Anakin striding through the hallways, cutting down any Jedi unlucky enough to cross his path. Troopers shooting younglings who had been left behind. In the temple hanger, a group of Jedi escaping with thirty or so younglings. _So few._ Master Yoda staying behind to fend off Anakin. Nearly succeeding, only to be shot in the head by a trooper. Anakin, strangling the trooper with the force.

Padmé forced herself to watch it all. Things she had suspected confirmed in all too vivid detail. She felt drained, unable to muster a few spare tears for the tragedy playing out before her eyes. It was harder to believe she could bring her Anakin back with the evidence of his cruelty in front of her. But Padmé needed to believe, or she would break.

When it was over, she took a few deep breaths before meeting Bail’s eyes. “Anakin came to the apartment right after _that.”_ She sounded only slightly shaky. “I don’t think I can stay on Coruscant. I need to leave.”

“Did he hurt you?” Bail was all concern.

“No, no. Just shattered my illusions.” She laughed hollow. “But I won’t be any good to anyone if I stay here. He’s already put watchdogs on me. It won’t be long before I’m a bird in a gilded cage, assuming our new _Emperor_ lets him _keep me._ But out there?” She gestured vaguely at the window. “I can use my connections to bring together people who believe in democracy. Or want to be free. Or even just want to get back at the system. But I have to get off the planet first. And that’s what I called you here for, Sabé.”

“I’m always happy to help,” Her handmaiden said. Sabé’s dark eyes expressed a determination Padmé hoped her own had regained.

“I hope you’ll have time to disappear, but –” Padmé began to explain, but was cut off.

“Padmé, I’ve been prepared to die for you since we were fourteen years old.” Sabé said it teasingly, but it felt like another stab to the heart. “I understand the risk.”

Padmé stood to hug her oldest friend for what was likely the last time. There were no words to express her gratitude for this, no words that could. So, she just whispered. “Thank you.” Sabé nodded as they parted.

“You’ll need a ship that can’t be traced.” Bail said. “I can –”

“No,” Padmé shook her head definitively. “We can’t put you at risk. That would put all of Alderaan in the Emperor’s crosshairs. I need someone who I wouldn’t be expected to go to for help, but who will be resigning from the Senate in protest anyways – after getting through the blockade with their diplomatic codes.”

Bail blinked at the suggestion. “I can make a list of possibilities.”

He set a search for senators who had consistently voted against the expansion of Palpatine’s Emergency Powers. The list was dismally short less than 2,000 in total. Reduced to a handful when the Senators who had already declared their public support for the Emperor or already fled Coruscant were eliminated.

As Padmé read the list over Bail’s shoulder, a name caught her eye. “Wait – Riyo Chuchi.”

“Good eye,” Bail said after he opened the Senator’s profile. “Not influential enough to be suspected of anything significant, but good voting record.”

“Ahsoka spoke highly of her,” Padmé said. Bail put a comforting hand on her shoulder at the mention of the dead Padawan.

“I’ll be leaving for Alderaan this evening. Breha and I will have to issue a joint statement of support for the Emperor.” His distaste for the concept was obvious. “It should give some reasonable doubt for how you left, as well.”

“Thank you, Bail,” she said. There would never be enough she could do to repay her friends. They finalized their plans and concluded the meeting. Padmé switched clothes with Sabé while Bail averted his eyes.

While the other two made their exit arm in arm, Padmé hid behind the door. “Padmé, shall we continue this conversation over lunch?” Bail asked Sabé as they began making their way down the corridor. The troopers trailed after them. Padmé sighed in relief, and waited ten minutes before heading down five floors to Senator Chuchi’s office.

She was in luck. Senator Chuchi was in.

The Pantoran Senator was obviously nearing the end of the process of clearing out her office. Shelves sat empty, her staff’s desks abandoned. Senator Chuchi herself was stuffing datapads and random supplies hap-hazardously into a small suitcase, a larger one sitting off to the side.

She looked up, started, as Padmé entered the room with a rap on the doorframe. “Senator Amidala! How can I help you? If it’s about a new bill, I’m afraid I won’t be much help.” She gestured around her office and grimaced. “I’m afraid I’m resigning.”

“Nothing of the sort, Senator Chuchi,” Padmé took up a perch on the empty desk nearest the Senator without invitation.

“It’s just Riyo, now,” Riyo replied with a halfhearted smile.

“Then it’s just Padmé,” she attempted a reassuring smile, and knew it fell short of the mark. “It’s your impending departure that might be able to help me. You see, I’ve been restricted to the planet and it’s imperative I leave immediately.”

“And only diplomatic vessels are being permitted past the blockade.” The other woman nodded in understanding. Her mouth twitched slightly to one side with a suppressed smirk as she crossed her arms and leaned against her desk. “I think I can help with that. Do you mind if I ask why? Or at least why me?”

“Not at all. But would you be willing to wait for that answer until we’re off planet?” Padmé shifted uncomfortably. The longer she remained not only on Coruscant, but in the Senate building itself, directly in Palpatine’s reach, the more anxious she got. Her heartrate spiked at the thought, and she struggled to calm herself. “It looks like you’re about packed, and the sooner we leave the better.”

“Fine.” Riyo nodded decisively, and looked Padmé up and down. “I assume you’ll need a better disguise for the spaceport. You can’t exactly pass for my aide. Shall we say girlfriend? With some make-up and a hood to hide your features.”

Padmé blinked. “Are you sure that’ll be necessary?”

“There are troopers doing checks for Jedi even at the Senate hanger. And who knows who we’ll run into.” Riyo began rummaging through the larger suitcase, and pulled out a make-up kit and a gauzy purple scarf, dotted with silver stars.

“Alright, then.” Padmé submitted to the other woman’s designs without further protest. Though she ended up wearing more make-up than she had allowed near her skin since the end of her tenure as queen, the application took Riyo no more than ten minutes. Padmé tucked the scarf around her hair and chin, and looked in the mirror Riyo held out to her. Her jaw dropped.

Padmé didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. The look was surprisingly understated, given how much make-up had been applied, but had somehow changed how she perceived her own features. A sparkly blue powder made her cheekbones stand out and lengthened her face, her lips were made fuller, and her eyes lightened by thick lines of gold surrounding them. She doubted anyone could have recognized her without using the force. This might be enough to fool facial recognition software if Padmé understood how the algorithms worked correctly. Riyo had missed her calling.

“You know, you’re surprisingly prepared for subterfuge.” Padmé raised an eyebrow at the other woman. “One might almost think you’ve done this before.”

Riyo laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, no, not at all. I did costume design for school plays back on Pantora. You would not believe the number of times I had to do this mid-show when someone damaged their costume or make-up”

“I don’t know, I was the Queen of Naboo. There were many times I had about five minutes to switch from queen to handmaiden or back.” Padmé smiled genuinely for the first time that day. “If you’re ready…?”

“Oh, right – you’ll be Pasha Revinda if anyone asks. It’s my actual ex-girlfriend’s name She’s from Coruscant, so it should check out.  Let’s go,” Riyo grabbed her smaller suitcase, and Padmé took the larger before the other woman could protest. Though they passed many people Padmé knew on a superficial level on the way out of the Senate building, not a one seemed to recognize her, though a few nodded at Riyo.

The ride to the spaceport was equally uneventful. When they stepped on the platform, Padmé had to stop herself from freezing at the sight of clone troopers in armor painted with blue as well as red. If there were any troopers who might recognize her in this get-up, they were in the 501st. She didn’t think she recognized any of those present based on the markings on their armor, but she had never been as good at telling the clones apart as the Jedi were.

A pair of 501st troopers stopped them as they approached Senator Chuchi’s ship, a small personal transport meant for no more than four people. “Names, destination, and purpose of travel?” One of them asked. The familiar voice was devoid of inflection. It sent chills down Padmé’s spine.

“Senator Riyo Chuchi and Pasha Revinda, headed to Pantora to… discuss today’s announcement with the Chairman.” Riyo’s voice didn’t shake at all. Was she certain she had only been involved in amateur theatrical costuming? She lied like a professional spy.

“They check out.” The other clone nodded to the first speaker. “You’re cleared to board.”

“Thank you, troopers.” Riyo said. They moved on without acknowledgement, and Padmé followed her companion onto the ship.

“Haha!” The younger woman punched the air and grinned as soon as the ramp closed behind them. “Told you they’d buy it.”

“We’re not out of here yet.” Padmé said, though something in her had relaxed at the ease with which they had passed the troopers. “Let’s save the celebration until we’ve cleared the blockade.”

For all her worrying, passing the blockade was no more difficult. Riyo merely transmitted her clearance codes, and answered the same three questions before they were cleared for departure. Padmé collapsed bonelessly into the co-pilot seat when the ship made the jump to hyperspace.

“So,” Riyo turned to her expectantly. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

Padmé gave her one.

It was less than twenty-four hours later that the Sith who had once been Anakin Skywalker returned to Senator Amidala’s apartment to find a woman who was decidedly not his wife sipping wine on the balcony. She pulled a blaster on him. He left hours later, cloak swirling behind him, with no useful information on his wife’s disappearance, and three bodies in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Leia are still going to be born is anyone's worried they wouldn't be. The temple bombing was apparently already in 19 BBY so I figured it's reasonable for Padmé to already be pregnant.
> 
> Next week back to Ahsoka, I promise.


	4. Ahsoka

Thankfully, there was a fully supplied, military-standard medical droid on board. Unfortunately, atomic-level imaging was not included in standard military imaging devices. Tentatively, Ahsoka reached out into the force, seeking out a feeling of wrongness in Rex’s head. She knew approximately where it should be, based on her Rex’s scar, but performing brain surgery without a precise location for the droid would be a death sentence. At first, she felt nothing. Just, well, Rex, having a nightmare.

She shifted her focus, forcing herself to stay out of his mind, and focus on the physical. It wasn’t a Jedi technique. But then, Ahsoka hadn’t been a Jedi for a long time. There. The patch of foreign cells that made up the bio-chip was only a few millimeters into his brain. Hopefully, that meant this would work. Part of her wished she could test this on Kix, not the man who had been the only remnant of a time before her world fell apart in that other life. But that was the part of her that would always be tempted by the dark side. And so, she didn’t listen.

Besides, Rex would never forgive her for putting one of his men at risk in his place.

And Ahsoka would never forgive herself if she didn’t try to get Rex’s permission first.

The droid would have to be slightly reprogrammed to follow her instructions rather than protocol. She opened the panel at its back and found the override that would permit the droid to take instruction from her, rather than only a medical professional. It was simple enough to rewire. She had dated a doctor once, though Kaeden hadn’t exactly given her in depth experience in brain surgery. Nor had any of the field medicine she picked up along the way. She closed the back panel and took a deep breath, letting her uncertainty out into the force. Ahsoka had the force, and she had the droid. That would have to be enough.

“Fulcrum, I am medical droid DC-12. How may I be of assistance today?” DC-12 asked, it’s voice identical to any other 2-1B, with possibly a bit more inflection. Had she added that?

“I need you to wake this man up, but keep him safely restrained.” She said, with more confidence than she felt. As far as Ahsoka knew, no clones had been able to resist Order 66. Perhaps if she kept out of Rex’s line of sight?

Doc injected Rex with something, that caused him to startle awake almost immediately. He jerked at his bonds, attempting to sit up.

“Don’t” She said, immediately throwing out the idea of staying out of sight to hold Rex down.

Rex stopped struggling. “Ahsoka? But you’re --?”

“Dead?” She cut him off. It seemed shock was overriding the chip for the moment, but how long would that last? “I’ll explain later. What’s important for you to know is there’s a chip in your head that _will_ make you try to kill me if we don’t get it out.”

“How…?” Rex trailed off, his eyes widening. He grimaced as though in pain, blinking rapidly. Apparently, the answer was not very long. “Not important. Get it out.” A vein stuck out on his head as he struggled to resist the instructions programmed into his brain. Doc injected him with a sedative. It took a few seconds that felt like an eternity for it to take effect. Rex relaxed back into unconsciousness, the tension disappearing from his body.

Once he was completely out, Ahsoka gestured to Doc. “Okay, Doc. I’m going to need you to cut into his head,” She said with more confidence than she felt. “Exactly here, through the skull, and two millimeters inside the brain, there’s a mass of cells 3 centimeters long and 1.5 wide, with the lengthier side angled towards the top of the head.”

“I would like to lodge a complaint. The requested operation is unethical,” Doc’s voice gained concern. “Are you certain you would like me to proceed, Fulcrum?”

“Absolutely certain,” She was not, in fact, absolutely certain, but she made herself sound like she was.

Without further question, Doc injected Rex with what Ahsoka assumed was an anesthetic, attached a saline drip to his arm, and extended probes to measure heart rate and electrical activity in the brain. He attached a short, solid cylinder to the indicated location on Rex’s head, and made the incision with no hesitation.

It was over in a matter of minutes, the chip out and placed on a glass slide, the incision in Rex’s head sutured shut. “Surgery was successful. The patient is expected to wake in half an hour. Potential side effects include damage to the parietal lobe, including disorientation and impaired navigation.”

Her heart lurched. “Thank you, Doc. If this was successful, I’ll need you to complete the same surgery on the other patient. Until we know for sure, could you keep him sedated?”

Humming tunelessly, Doc moved over to Kix and began monitoring his condition. Ahsoka took Rex’s hand and lowered her head to his gurney. “I really hope I didn’t just kill you.” She whispered.

Ahsoka figured it was as good a time as any to meditate, while she waited. She would have to process this eventually. Part of her was still convinced this was a dream or some kind of Sith-wrought trick. It was more difficult than usual to fall into that place of calm connection with the force. It wasn’t just the imbalance of her emotions, but the force itself, newly unbalanced. The first time around, Ahsoka had been unable to meditate for months after Order 66, echoes of the Jedi’s slaughter jolting her out of communion with the force within moments. But she was older now, and accustomed to an empty force infused with tendrils of the dark side. Reaching the right state of being took some time, but she got there.

Time had always been something Ahsoka perceived as linear, though she was aware some scientists disagreed. It seemed the force itself disagreed as well. But why her, and why now? Why not send her back earlier, before the Emperor’s power had become thoroughly encroached. Perhaps there was only room for one version of Ahsoka in a timeline, so the force had sent her to one where she died.

Perhaps something had gone wrong in this timeline, causing the other version of her to be condemned. Perhaps the force had brought her back to correct what her untimely death had shifted out of balance. But hadn’t that always been Anakin’s job as the Chosen One? It wasn’t the first time Ahsoka though the Jedi might have misinterpreted her old Master’s role in the universe. Instead of balancing the force, he had shifted it far to one side, and the dark side at that. Clearly there was something they had missed. Unless however Anakin was supposed to bring balance would happen in the future?

She wished she could talk to Obi-wan, or Master Yoda about this. Ahsoka had grown used to that wish not being granted over the years, but it hadn’t stopped her from wishing. Especially now, when it seemed likely her grandmaster was still alive, somewhere in the galaxy.

Ahsoka no longer believed no one could come back from the dark side, not after what she had heard of Ventress and Quinlan Vos. But Vader was a full Sith apprentice. Never had Dooku or Maul shown signs of regret or conflict. Vader _had_ though, if only slightly. His hesitation, when she cracked his mask, was proof of that. But that would mean there was hope Anakin could see the light after all, and that was a thought too dangerous to entertain. Ahsoka tucked the sliver of hope deep in her heart, and let the pain go again. She went deeper --

 “Fulcrum, the patient’s brain waves indicate wakefulness,” Doc’s voice brought her back to the present. Ahsoka blinked away the fuzziness and stood to stretch, her limbs stiff despite the short length of her meditation. Sure enough, Rex stirred a few seconds later, and attempted to sit up far too quickly.

Ahsoka caught him by the shoulders and eased him back down to the table. “Easy there, Captain.”

“Ahsoka? What?” Recognition came into his eyes, and shock along with it. Rex looked her up and down, making sure she was really there. His hands clutched her forearms, using them as an anchor. “How? I thought you were dead. When did you get so tall? Is that Kix?” He noticed the other table. His eyes widened a moment later as he remembered more recent events. “I tried to kill you! How could I have –”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. That won’t happen to you again, I promise.” She removed her right arm from his grasp so she could take out the chip that had been in his head not even an hour earlier. “It was all this. I’ll explain more in a minute, but let Doc here check you out first, ok?” When he looked ready to argue with her on that, she teasingly but firmly added, “Or do I have to make it an order?”

“No, sir, Commander Tano, sir,” He scoffed fondly, and settled back. Ahsoka stepped away from his bed, letting Doc in to begin checking his responses. Rex seemed fine, his memory intact and balance stable. She hadn’t killed him, hadn’t crippled him. Ahsoka let the worry that had been coiled tightly around her heart go. There had been few people she allowed herself to care about on a personal level, for so many years. Rex was her oldest friend, and Ahsoka wasn’t certain what losing him would do to her. For now, at least, she didn’t have to find out.

“The patient should partake in only light activities for the next three days. He will make a full recovery.” Doc announced, before moving back to monitoring Kix. Ahsoka grinned, and hugged Rex. He didn’t move for a second, startled, but then his arms came around her back to hold her close. It reminded her of their reunion on board the _Liberator_. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she smiled into his shoulder.

“I don’t recall a Togruta Master in the Order other than Shaak Ti,” Depa Bilaba’s voice came from behind her. Rex let her go, as though burned, and she turned to find Kanan’s Master leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest.  Kanan – no, Caleb – hovered uncertainly at her side.

“I’m not a Master,” Ahsoka said. “I never even became a Knight. I suppose I owe you an explanation, but it’s a long one. Why don’t you take a seat?”

She gestured at a pair of seats folded up into the wall by Doc’s charging station. When they were seated, she continued. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll be blunt. I’m Ahsoka Tano, former Padawan of Anakin Skywalker, from over sixteen years into a slightly different future.”

             “You’re what?” Rex shouted, nearly falling off the table. She turned back to meet his eyes, and he sighed. “Of course, you are. How else would you have gotten so tall? Is there anything Jedi can’t do?”

             “Honestly, Rex?” Ahsoka took one of his hands back in hers. “I have no idea.”

She turned back to the two Jedi. Master Bilaba said nothing, taking the time to process her statement. Kanan, however, had no such restrictions. “Time travel? How? What was the future like? What do you mean slightly different?”

Where had this inquisitive young boy gone in her timeline? Order 66 had destroyed so much for its few survivors. He seemed to instantly believe her, which was strange. But other than his distrust of Rex, Kanan had seemed an excellent judge of character. She hoped this innate bright curiosity was something he could preserve this time around.

It probably helped that he hadn’t seen his Master gunned down in front of him by trusted friends. That she was sitting beside him with a fond smile on her face. That the destruction of the Order was in the abstract, something felt through the force, and then gone. Leaving behind a scar, yes, a dark emptiness he would find whenever he reached out to the force for the rest of his life. But it was an emptiness that hadn’t sunk in yet.

The emptiness Ahsoka had lived with for half her life.

“Slow down, Caleb,” Master Bilaba admonished her Padawan gently. “One question at a time. Let’s start with what you know about today’s events.”

“I don’t know everything,” Ahsoka admitted. “But I can tell you what happened in my timeline.” Master Bilaba nodded at her to continue. “As you know, the version of me in this timeline was executed for supposedly blowing up the Jedi Temple. In mine, my old Master caught the real culprit just in time to save me, and I chose to leave the Order when the Council offered to reinstate me. About eight months later, I was asked to liberate Mandalore from the rule of Darth Maul. That was when it happened.”

She took a deep breath before continuing. Even after all these years it still hurt to think about – the troopers turning on her, and on Rex for defending her. Especially now, after it had happened all over again, this time with Rex on the other side. If she hadn’t been able to stun him… But she had, and that was what mattered. “It’s called Order 66, and it calls for the purge of the Jedi Order based on the false charge of attempting to assassinate Chancellor Palpatine. Or rather, Darth Sidious.”

That statement, predictably, resulted in a minor uproar. Ahsoka couldn’t pick out a coherent question from among the three shouting at her. Ahsoka help up a hand, and said nothing until the others settled down, Master Bilaba looking rather embarrassed at having lost her cool.

“If you don’t believe me, _that_ you’ll be able to check for yourself when we exit hyperspace.” Ahsoka said “Palpatine will have declared himself emperor, and claimed the Jedi attempted a coup.”

“It _was_ the Chancellor that gave the Order,” Rex said softly, appearing to sink in on himself. Ahsoka perhaps should have been gentler with the delivery of that news. She’d forgotten how much it had hurt her old friend to learn that everything he had fought for was a lie. But was there any good way to learn that?

“I survived the first time around because sometime between my leaving the Jedi Order and Order 66, a trooper named Fives discovered these chips.” She held up the chip again, and handed it off so Master Bilaba could examine it.

“He was accused of treason and killed before he could prove they were more than just,” Ahsoka scoffed at the idea that _any_ kind of control chip was _just_ anything. She knew better than that. She squeezed Rex’s hand to let him know she wasn’t trying to minimize what had been done to him. “Just aggression control chips. But he told that version of Rex here enough for him to know he wanted his out. He saved me, we fought our way out against friends and in his case, brothers, who had been turned against us through _no fault of their own.”_

She took a shaky breath as Rex tightened his grip on her hand. Why was _he_ comforting _her_? It should be the other way around. “We faked our deaths, and I eventually found my way into running intelligence for a rebellion lead by Senator Bail Organa.” She turned back to Rex. “The next part is going to be hard for you to hear, specifically.”

“Because the rest of this hasn’t been?” His voice was rough, but he firmed his shoulders and nodded at her to continue. Master Bilaba looked shaken, but determined. Kanan was on the verge of tears, but holding together so far.

“You have to understand that nearly _all_ the Jedi were wiped out in an instant. The only – and I mean _only_ – other survivors I _ever_ met were Master Yoda, and Ka-Caleb, here.” Kanan startled at that, and started to ask something, only to be shushed by his Master. “Master Fisto and the younglings are out there. There are four of you on this ship. Master Obi-wan was apparently out of contact. The Order was given early – Palpatine may not have had time to set up some of his pieces. That happened because a Jedi Palpatine has been grooming for years fell to the dark side earlier.”

Ahsoka saw the moment Master Bilaba connected the pieces – the change between their timelines. “It’s Knight Skywalker, isn’t it?”

“The General would never betray the Republic!” Rex asserted, looking to Ahsoka for reassurance. She wished she could give it to him.

Ahsoka nodded at Master Bilaba instead. “I only found out a few months ago, when I had my first encounter with the Sith I had heard of for years as Darth Vader, and recognized his force signature.”

Rex attempted to shoot to his feet, and Ahsoka had to prevent him. “He wouldn’t.” He whispered, slumping.

“I really wish I could tell you that.” She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes so he could see she was telling the truth. “I still don’t want to believe it, and he nearly _killed_ me.”

“How did you survive then?” Kanan blurted out, his impatience and desire to know winning out over politeness. Ahsoka was glad of it.

She shrugged. “The force? I was pulled out of time, right before he would have killed me, and when I tried to reenter my timeline, I ended up in the Jedi Temple today.”

“That doesn’t give me much reason to trust you,” Master Bilaba said, her tone cautious.

“I know,” Ahsoka sighed. “I don’t know why I’m here. Just that I am. Trust me or not. That will have to be your decision.”

Master Bilaba took a moment to contemplate the situation before responding. “I guess I’ll have to take a chance then. I saw we’re headed to Nar Shaddaa?”

Ahsoka nodded. “We can exchange this ship for something untraceable.”

“Good thinking,” Master Bilaba said. “I assume you know how to make the exchange? Because I don’t”

“I’ve made similar deals, yes.” Ahsoka kept that purposefully vague. Some of those deals probably wouldn’t go over too well with her present company, steeped in Jedi values as they were.

“And after that?” Master Bilaba asked.

“I plan to look for Master Obi-wan,” Ahsoka raised her brow in challenge. “Since it looks like the galaxy could use a rebellion, I’d like to find him before he tries anything rash. Like confronting Vader or the Emperor unprepared.”

“Master Obi-wan? Rash?” Kanan asked incredulously.

“Have you ever _met_ the man?” Rex chocked out a laugh, apparently recovered enough from the barrage of information to respond on reflex.

“Do you have any idea where to start looking?” Master Bilaba leaned forward, seemingly intrigued.

“I’m not sure. He rescued the Duchess of Mandalore, right?” At Master Bilaba’s nod, she continued. “I don’t know where he is, but I know where the Duchess’s sister should be. Kalevala, in the Mandalore system.”

“Reasonable,” Master Bilaba sounded so much like Master Windu in that moment that Ahsoka had to stifle a chuckle.

“Looking forward to working with you, then, Master Bilaba.” Ahsoka smirked.

“Please, call me Depa,” The Jedi Master winked, and swept out of the room. Kanan looked back and forth between Ahsoka an Rex before rushing to follow his Master.

Ahsoka turned back to Rex, only to find him trying to stop tears from streaming down his face. She hugged him again, and he buried his face in her shoulder with only mild protest. Ahsoka let him cry for as long as he needed. She let herself cry silently, if briefly, as well. For the timeline she’d been torn out of, for the deaths of the Jedi all over again. Releasing her worry, and anxiety, and fear.

When he stopped shaking, Rex pulled back from her, and looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry, Commander.”

“Don’t apologize,” She smiled at him, and placed her hands on his cheeks, encouraging him to face her. “I know _I’ve_ done that to you before, unless this timeline is a lot more different than I thought.”

That got a half-hearted smile out of him, at least. “You have,” he admitted.

“So, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Ahsoka stepped back, giving Rex some space. “And I’m not a commander anymore. It’s just Ahsoka.”

“Ahsoka,” Rex said, and it sounded right. “It will definitely take me some time to remember that.”

She smiled in delight. Doc chose that moment to interrupt. “If you don’t mind, Fulcrum, could we get on with that other surgery now?”

“Right, yeah,” Ahsoka said. Kix’s situation had slipped her mind in all the emotional turmoil. “Let him talk to Rex first, alright?”

“This is to remove his chip, yeah?” When she nodded, he took a deep breath, and set his shoulder back in Captain mode. “Wake him up.”

Ahsoka stood outside the med-bay while Rex spoke to Kix. There was no need to rush that conversation, when Rex was available to explain. He let her back in when Kix was under anesthesia.

The proximity alarm went off when they were waiting for Kix to wake up, notifying Ahsoka of their imminent return to real space. She hurried to the cockpit, and claimed the pilot’s seat from Kanan, who had his feet slug up on the dashboard and was staring out into hyperspace. She fiddled with the ship’s frequency quickly, managing to change one digit before they returned to real space. It wasn’t as good a job as she could do with a frequency scrambler, but it would have to do until she could build one.

The polluted Hutt-run city-planet of Nar Shaddaa loomed before them. There was more than one reason she had selected the planet, but they could all be summed up by Nar Shaddaa’s lawlessness. Ahsoka didn’t make a habit of remembering clearance codes long term, but she wouldn’t have known the correct ones this early in the Empire anyway. The lack of standardized laws could only help, in that respect. Nar Shaddaa was used to the laxer laws of the wartime Republic, not the occasional “inspections” the Empire would pull to make it look like they were cracking down on crime, instead of facilitating it, or to root out Rebel agents. More importantly, literally anything could be bought and sold there, from genetically-modified tookas to entire moons. Finding a ship would be easy.

All she had to do was claim the freighter was carrying cargo for trade, and they were granted clearance to land in loading bay C644.

The others, clad as they were in Jedi robes or GAR armor, stayed on board while Ahsoka dealt with the standard bride for the slimy human official who met them at the gate, leaving her lightsabers on board. Thankfully, Depa carried enough credits on her for that, and to exchange for nondescript clothing for her companions.

While it took no time at all to locate a street market with a surplus of clothing vendors, Ahsoka took her time picking out the necessary bits and pieces from different stalls. Nar Shaddaa wasn’t a place where people tended to ask questions, but discrepancies did tend to get noticed, and find their way to some bounty hunter or other. A single armor-clad Togruta purchasing a surplus of clothing, none of it in her size, might be noticeable.

There was likely surveillance footage of the hanger, too – Ahsoka cursed herself for failing to take that out. What kind of intelligence operative was she, to forget such a basic tenant of covert operations? The pressure of the situation was no excuse, nor was the fact she didn’t know where the cameras would be located. While it was doubtful anyone would be able to identity her, wanted listings would be put out for a Togruta travelling with Jedi Master Depa Bilaba, Jedi Padawan Caleb Dume, two younglings, and two kidnapped clones soon enough, if they hadn’t already.

 The Empire had her picture. Vader might see it. _Kriff._ She might not remain unidentified for long.

She picked out plain, darkly colored cloaks and flight suits. Nothing home spun, or in any shade of brown. Nothing to associate her companions with the Jedi. She purchased a pair of blaster cases of the perfect size to store her lightsabers, and attached them to her belt. While she could use a blaster if necessary – and that would probably be for the best, this soon after Order 66 – Ahsoka preferred to have her sabers on her at all times.

Purchases in hand, and consolidated into a single bag, Ahsoka headed to the nearest bar district, and followed a nudging of the force into a particularly seedy looking one that proudly displayed a pair of naked and intertwined Twi’lek women on its sign. Not particularly creative, that.

She made a beeline for the bar, and ordered a shot of Correlian Rum before turning to study the room. Five obvious bounty hunters in residence. Not great, but hardly impossible odds. None looked at her twice, and the force wasn’t warning her about the, so it seemed unlikely any bounty on her had made its way here yet. Not that she’d be letting her guard down anytime soon.

Lots of drunkards, for all that it was the middle of Nar Shaddaa’s day. A few backroom spice deals being made in plain sight. One human man who seemed to be genuinely enjoying the grating voice of the Zabrak singer – or possibly just staring at the other man’s bare chest.

There. A somewhat familiar Weequay she thought might once have worked for one Hondo Ohnaka. His outfit looked like an outright imitation of the infamous pirate’s style. He was standing in a corner, nursing a drink, and looking like he was on a much-delayed vacation.

Ahsoka really hoped Hondo wasn’t around, given the jokes _he_ would make about her apparently sudden aging, or supposed death. She downed the shot – surprisingly good quality, that – and approached the pirate.

“What’s a – “ he started, a leer forming on his lined face.

“Girl like me doing in a place like this?” Ahsoka finished flatly. “Looking to sell a ship. Are you in the market?’

“Now what would make you think that?” He was taken aback, though whether it was at her shutdown or the blunt offer, she wasn’t yet sure.

“You work with Hondo. Or at least wish you did. That style’s a dead giveaway.” She looked him up and down as though making the evaluation. “Hondo is always in the market for anything profitable.”

“Say I do,” he hedged. “What are you offering?”

“Top-of-the-line XS freighter.” She leaned back against the wall at his side to better keep an eye on the room. “For no questions asked, I’ll even let you rip me off.”

His interest was sparked. It was the work of only a few minutes haggling to get a price that would ensure she could turn around and buy a lower quality, but untraceable freighter easily enough. Before setting up an exchange time, she ensured he was alone on leave.

Ahsoka was all too aware of how Hondo operated, after that time he attempted to sell her into slavery. She wasn’t about to assume any deal was too small for him to try to get the best of. This guy on his own? She wasn’t about to let her guard down, but she didn’t think he had the brains _or_ firepower to pull anything on her. He hadn’t questioned the deal he was getting at all – Ahsoka doubted he would do more than scrub the transponder, which would leave the Empire with several ways to track the ship down in ports. If the Empire caught up with him before he sold it or reported in to Hondo, there was a good chance he’d be brought in for interrogation.

Given the trades Hondo got into, Ahsoka didn’t feel the slightest bit bad about it.

Sure enough, the exchange went off without a hitch. She had returned some time earlier, to deliver the clothing and unload the ship. Kix had woken up while she was gone, and was confused but coherent. Ahsoka offered him – and Rex, who shrugged off the offer before she finished making it – the chance to leave and find his own way. But when she offered to try to find him resources to help his brothers – to research how to turn off the chips if it was possible, or at least remove them from any they could save, he jumped at the chance.

The idea of watching his brothers be thrown away like so much trash was no more appealing to Kix than it had been to the Rex in her timeline. Only this time, they might be able to help some few of them. Ahsoka hoped.

The others loitered in the shadows while Ahsoka exchanged keys for credits. Having the concealed lightsabers at her hips were a considerable relief, despite the lack of real danger. A minor mind trick made the pirate forget her appearance before he headed on board to inspect his purchase.

Rex and Doc accompanied her to a used ship dealer, while Depa and Kix took Kanan and the younglings to a café, looking for all the world like a recently arrived family of traders stopping by for lunch, bags in tow. She had purchased a pair of disposable comms with the clothes, so they could notify the others when they had a ship purchased and prepped for departure.

Two hours later, they were the proud owners of a YT-1500 freighter, and leaving Nar Shaddaa far behind them. Depa was off in the cramped bunks, attempting to put their stowaways to bed, so she could get some much-needed rest. Kix and Doc were checking out the tiny med-bay, bickering over how to set up the apparently sub-standard equipment, leaving Ahsoka and Rex alone in the cockpit.

Ahsoka knew she should get some rest herself, but she was too keyed-up for that. Meditation would do her good, but she wasn’t quite willing to expose herself to the desolated force again so soon. Rex stared listlessly out into the speeding blue lines of hyperspace.

Someone stomped into the cockpit, startling them both into defensive postures. It was, of course, Kanan. Caleb. Ahsoka would never get used to calling him that. “I have question,” the boy announced. With braid and rattail so recently removed, he looked uncertain in his own skin. Like his place in the universe had just been swept out from beneath his feet. Which, Ahsoka knew from experience, it had been.

“Do you now?” She raised a brow at him.

“Yes,” he said petulantly, crossing his arms.

“Well, let’s hear them, then.” Despite everything, this version of Kanan was a _delight._ If this was what the loss of his Master and years alone in the galaxy had taken away from him, Ahsoka had even more of a reason to be thankful she had been given the chance to help prevent that.

“You sound just like Master Kenobi,” Kanan said. He took a seat at the dejarik table that took up the back half of the cockpit. Rex sniggered. She rolled her eyes at him.

“I assume that’s a good thing?” She asked.

“Obviously,” Kanan drew out the word. Because, teenager that he was, it was clearly the most obvious thing in the world, and Ahsoka was an idiot for having to ask. “He is – was – the only Master who liked when I asked questions.”

“That does sound like Obi-wan. I imagine your questions were a breath of fresh air, given what he dealt with from Anakin as a Padawan.” She laughed softly, remembering.

“As a Padawan? You say that like he ever stopped,” Rex snorted. “And are we conveniently forgetting what General Kenobi dealt with from _you?_ ”

“For your information, Rex, Obi-wan _liked_ my questions,” She turned up her nose at him, mock offended. “I saved the obnoxious ones for Anakin.”

“How could I forget,” Rex chuckled, then turned back to Kanan. “Sorry, hazards of working with this one.” He jerked his thumb at her. She made a face back. “What were your questions?”

Kanan was, thankfully, snickering at their banter, his right hand over his mouth to block out the sound. Given her experiences with his older self and the Ghost crew, his amusement was no surprise. But then Kanan sobered, and bombarded them with questions. “What’s going to happen to us? _Why_ did the chancellor do this to us? What did the Jedi ever do to him? Why are people just accepting it?”

Now _that_ a whole bunch of loaded questions. Ahsoka thought for a moment before answering. “The Emperor is a Sith. I can’t fathom his motivations any better than you can. Power? Control? Spite?”

It was a very Jedi answer, Ahsoka thought, but Kanan didn’t look satisfied by it. Ahsoka understood why. It was never easy to accept that some questions couldn’t be answered.

“As for the Jedi, well. No one will _ever_ deserve to be slaughtered like that. Not ever. But the public has believed the Jedi were corrupt for a long time – fighting wars instead of preventing them. Ignoring people in need to help the Republic.”

“But we didn’t have a choice!” Kanan blurted out. “How can the think that?”

“There’s always a choice.” She smiled sadly. “But you’re right in that they didn’t understand why the Jedi were fighting. All they saw was a war – and that they were getting left behind. They aren’t wrong about that. The end of the war, right when the Jedi were accused of manufacturing it and purged, will have convinced most people. They’ll see the Empire as bringing peace and safety and order back to the galaxy.”

“But they’re wrong, aren’t they?” He asked, softer this time.

“They are,” She said. “Before long, entire races will be enslaved, or wiped out. And most people will support the empire anyway, or not be in a position where they can do anything about it. The Emperor has been planning this for a long time.”

“Is there any hope?” Kanan sniffed, likely on the verge of crying, but trying not to in front of them.

Rex and Ahsoka exchanged a glance before Rex responded. “There’s always hope.”

“If we can win, it will likely take a very long time, though.” Ahsoka added, not wanting to inspire Kanan to anything immediately reckless.

Kanan looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding firmly and asking, “What was that thing you did with the transponder on the other ship earlier?”

Now that was a question she could actually answer. Ahsoka grinned.

She showed him the slicing she’d done, and answered the boy’s further questions about running this and fixing that. She and Rex regaled him with tales of their exploits all the while, until Kanan was falling to sleep on his feet. Rex picked him up, and lay him down on the dejarik bench, where the boy sprawled out, and passed out in an instant. Rex returned to the co-pilot’s chair and quickly fell asleep himself. Ahsoka watched them for a while, until she finally felt her own eyelids growing heavy.

She dreamed of red lightsabers and respirators.

 

Ahsoka startled awake to the sound of the proximity alert. Kanan jerked up, and fell off the dejarik bench. “Owww,” he moaned, rubbing his head before extracting himself from beneath the table. He then proceeded to stretch out on the floor and dramatically threw an arm over his eyes.

The ship exited hyperspace and the temperate planet of Kalevala filled the viewport. Kalevala could not be more different from its sister planet of Mandalore, though it was only a fraction of a lightyear further from the system’s sun. Spared the worst of the ancient Mandalorian wars, only a few regions resembled the arid wasteland that covered Mandalore. Some regions had been reclaimed by conservation efforts, while others had never been devastated in the first place. It made for a patchwork quilt of oceans, deserts, forests, and sparkling cities.

“We’re here.” She announced, purposefully sounding as chipper as possible to annoy the sleepy teenager.

Kanan groaned in response.

They weren’t hailed on approach, which was – typical, honestly. Bo-katan preferred waiting to see if someone was a threat, then attacking at the slightest evidence of provocation.

“I see no one’s asked for identification.” Depa entered the cockpit, accompanied by two scowling, tired looking younglings. “Is that a problem?”

             “Not at all,” Ahsoka replied, somewhat facetiously. She expected a full squad of Nite Owls to attack upon their arrival. But again – typical. “This isn’t Sundari. For the most part, Mandalorian warriors prefer to fight you in person if they decide you’re a threat.”

             “So, they’ll let us land, then attack” Rex scrubbed a hand over his face. “Great.”

             “Isn’t it though?” She kept her tone light, though she knew facing off with Bo-Katan’s warriors would be no joke.

             They entered the atmosphere over the capital, and Ahsoka brought the ship in for a smooth landing about a kilometer away from the Kryze Palace. Far enough that whoever Bo-katan sent couldn’t get immediate back-up before they had a chance to make someone listen, but still on its grounds, out of the way of civilians. It was winter in Kalevala’s northern hemisphere, and snow coated the ground.

             “Have I ever mentioned how glad I am Master Plo Koon taught you how to land?” Rex asked, not even half-joking. “Because I am.”

             “Haha, very funny,” Ahsoka attempted to sound offended on behalf of her accident-prone Master, but knew she didn’t manage it. The involuntary smile she gave him didn’t help.

             It took a few minutes for anyone to arrive. At the first sign of incoming jetpacks, Depa turned to Katooni and Petro to admonish them. “Stay _in_ the ship. Or so help me I will drop you off in an orphanage on Alderaan.”

             It wasn’t a real threat, and far from the worst fate they could be left to, but the younglings pouted and chorused. “Yes, Master Bilaba.”

             The expression on Depa’s face was so exasperated and annoyed, the three observers had to snicker, which was quickly put to a stop when Depa whirled around to turn her glare on them. Clearly, Katooni and Petro had not gone to sleep quietly a few hours earlier. Not if they were already provoking a Jedi Master to this degree. From what Ahsoka remembered of her adventures with the younglings, Depa was impressively good at reigning them in.

             That was, if they actually stayed in the ship.

             Depa led the way out of the freighter, Kanan at her heels. Ahsoka and Rex followed, and she closed the ramp remotely behind them. “It’s times like these that make me wish spaceships had childproof locks.” She murmured to Rex.

             “Really?” He asked. “Because if they did, the General would have used them on you at every opportunity.”

             “You say that like I wouldn’t have gotten past them in under five minutes.” She grinned at him, and he scoffed fondly before grinning back. There had never been anyone who got her quite the way Rex did.

             “If you two are done,” Depa interjected. “We have incoming.”

             Sure enough, approximately twenty blue-armored Mandalorians flying toward them on jetpacks.

             “Why did _we_ never get jetpacks?” Rex grumbled as their opponents opened fire. He raised his blaster and fired back, taking one out quickly.

             “Funding?” Ahsoka ignited her lightsabers, and began blocking shots. Kanan and Depa did the same a few feet ahead.

             Rex rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a Mandalorian deciding to engage him hand in hand. Realizing they were facing Jedi, the Mandalorians stopped shooting, and ran to engage them directly. Ahsoka blocked a first hit, and threw her attacker twenty feet back into a snow drift. Two more were there to take their place.  She deflected their hits with the hilts of her sabers, and pushed one into the other, but they recovered quickly.

When they rushed to attack again, she ducked between them, and came up with her blades at their throats. “I’d suggest you surrender.” She told them, and smirked.

Kanan was hard pressed against two opponents of his own, but Depa had knocked out or killed several of her own, and came to assist him. Rex was standing alone, three likely hopefully bodies surrounding him, but holding his shoulder with a grimace on his face.

“Ahsoka? Is that you?” She turned, keeping her blades steady at the throats of the two Mandalorians. The speaker was average height, with ginger hair and a full beard, clad in Jedi robes, standing to the side of the fight, an unlit lightsaber in hand. His perpetual smirk was missing, replaced by shock and a deep sadness that ordinarily hid just beneath the surface. Though Ahsoka had not seen him in person in many years, she recognized him instantly.

Well then, that had been easier than expected. Here he was. Obi-wan Kenobi. The Negotiator, who could convince kings to give up the clothes off their back, and Separatist generals to serve him tea. Her Grandmaster, whose wisdom and humor Ahsoka had missed for so long. He was shorter than she remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week, what Obi-wan has been up to!
> 
> I'm still working on both part two and editing some of the chapters of this part, but my classes just ended so hopefully I'll have more time to work on that. Hopefully - I'm a grad student, so my free time depends on whether my research cooperates.


	5. Obi-wan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherein this fic finally earns its Obitine tag. Some dialog used from the Lawless.

_Two Weeks Earlier_

The hyperspace generator on the Twilight was broken. Anakin, apparently, had not been aware of this when he offered Obi-wan his personal remodeled spice freighter without question.

_Anakin_. It would be too much of a delay to rent a ship, and he couldn’t access Jedi funds for the necessary credits anyway. Well, he was already disobeying orders. Why not add borrowing a Jedi ship without approval to his tab? That shield-equipped freighter ought to do nicely.

Obi-wan appropriated the shuttle without incident, the workers on duty unwilling to question the actions of a Jedi High Council Member. As the ship entered hyperspace, it occurred to Obi-wan that this could result in more than a simple reprimand. Making off with temple property was a significantly greater offense than disappearing for a few days.

But for all Obi-wan was always telling Anakin to trust in the Council, their hands were tied by the Senate. He knew why that had been necessary, how it helped the Order become a legitimate organization rather than a group of extralegal vigilantes. Yet now they refused to authorize even an investigation of a leader of a peaceful system's specific request for intervention. Perhaps the Jedi were losing sight of their true purpose through their involvement in the war. And --

_Satine._

The sound of her plea, tinged with desperation, rung in his ears. He was a hypocrite, as prone to attachment as Anakin.

Obi-wan could have pretended his actions were due to the threat of Death Watch to galactic stability. But he knew this was personal, his attachments getting the better of him. If he failed... Obi-wan could not allow himself to allow them to drag him down into the dark. The galaxy could ill afford another fallen Jedi Master.

Clearance to land at the Sundari spaceport was granted surprisingly easily for a city that had just been taken over by a terrorist organization. Was Pre Viszla expecting him to attempt to rescue Satine?

It was too late to change strategies now. Obi-wan feigned forgetfulness when a guard asked for his papers, leading him on board to steal his armor. For a member of death watch, the man did not put up much of a fight. Obi-wan left the ship running, with hyperspace coordinates pre-programmed in.

He had a bad feeling about this.

Sundari prison was far too easy to infiltrate, even in his stolen Mandalorian armor, empty save for Satine, and a few force presences patrolling on other floors. He failed to understand why Death Watch would have emptied the prison of _all_ its criminals. Surely, they weren't all allies.

He located Satine's force signature easily enough, with so few present, and encountered no one on his way there. Someone was expecting him. But until confronted with opposition, there was nothing Obi-wan could do about that.

Satine was facing away from him when he found her cell. "Come to do more of your master's bidding? She said with venom as the door slid open.

"I do my own bidding." He replied. Satine gasped his name and rose to fall into his arms. He let her linger for a moment before pushing her away.

"Are you alone?" She asked, disappointed, but far from shocked.

"Yes," He said shortly, bitterness creeping into his voice. "The Jedi Council and Galactic Senate will be of no use to us here."

Obi-wan took Satine's hand, and checked the hallway before leading her out of the cell.

There was a guard in the lift. Unfortunate. Obi-wan decided to go with it, better not to cause an alert unless absolutely necessary, and pushed Satine inside before him.

"There's no record of a prisoner transfer here." The guard said.

"The orders came from upstairs." Obi-wan improvised. _Good job, you idiot, that didn't sound_ remotely _suspicious._

"What's the authorization code," The guard asked, suspicious.

"Oh, um." Obi-wan put his arm up behind his neck, and sighed. He knocked the guard out.

Another guard tried to stop them as they climbed onto a speeder, but wasn't fast enough, firing uselessly into the air as they sped away.

Obi-wan lowered the ramp as they approached the ship. They jumped off the speeder and hurried inside. Death Watch had already figured out which ship was his, and began firing, but the shields held. The freighter responded immediately when he initiated take-off, and lurched into the sky, picking up speed so quickly that he and Satine were both forced back into their seats from the pressure.

A pair of torpedoes impacted the hull, slowing their momentum momentarily, but the shields still held. They were out of range before a second barrage could reach them. Obi-wan didn't relax until the ship entered hyperspace. He slumped boneless into his seat with relief.

Satine was safe. He'd gotten her out.

Obi-wan could not bring himself to care whether that made him a bad Jedi at the moment.

He glanced over at Satine, and his heart stuttered at the sight of tears rolling silently down her cheeks as she stared resolutely out into the void of hyperspace. Obi-wan hesitated, years of molding himself into the outwardly perfect, attachment-free Jedi warring with the desire to comfort the woman he'd – cared about for so many years. As happened with alarming frequency of late, the latter part won out. He levered himself out of the pilot's seat and moved to kneel before her, taking her hands in his own.

Satine sniffed, and met his eyes, searching for something he couldn't define. After a long, tense moment, she seemed to find it, and threw herself forward into his arms.

He fell backwards, landing with his left leg crossed under the right at an awkward angle, and Satine in his lap, her arms wrapped tightly around his armored chest. It couldn't have been a comfortable position for her, either, but she didn't complain, only nestled closer. He tucked her head under his chin, and savored the fact that Satine was here, alive, in his arms.

Obi-wan wasn't sure how long they stayed that way before she extracted herself from his arms, her tears long dried, his leg gone number, the armor digging into his skin in very inconvenient places.

As Satine took a seat on the floor nearby, Obi-wan stretched out his leg, wincing at its stiffness. Satine made a face in sympathy. "Sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"Don't be," he started – and stopped.

The space around them filled with awkward silence. He looked down at his lap, examining a spot of scraped paint on the armor covering his right thigh. It reminded him oddly of Anakin's astromech.

Satine cleared her throat. "What's our destination?" Her voice was back to its typical assured imperiousness, though he could tell it was a thin façade. Her life had been disrupted, her system thrust into turmoil, her hard-won peace rejected by her own people. But she was alive, and if Obi-wan knew Satine at all, she would never stop fighting until she prevailed. Albeit in her own, non-violent fashion. Obi-wan intended to do everything he could to help her find a starting point. Even if it were feasible for him to help beyond that, he doubted she would need or welcome his assistance.

Not given his role in the war.

"Coruscant," he said, looking up at her.

Her eyes widened. "My opinion no Republic interference in Mandalorian affairs has not changed," her tone rose in pitch, her familiar temper returning.

"I didn't expect it to," Obi-wan attempted to placate her. "I just thought you could – regroup. For a few days. I wasn't sure where you would want to go, and well," he cut himself off. There was no call for blathering on like a nineteen-year-old Anakin seeing Senator Amidala for the first time in ten years.

"And you needed to ensure our escape. Of course." Satine settled back, accusation disappearing from her expression. "I understand."

Though she certainly wasn't any more pleased about it.

"I didn't exactly have permission for this," he admitted. "The Council all but ordered me not to intervene."

She looked up sharply at that. "You –" She stopped.

"I might have – borrowed this ship." Obi-wan looked away, feeling his ears war. "Without authorization. I would have come even if they had ordered me not to directly." He confessed the last part softly, part of him unwilling to accept it as the truth. It was all but an admission of attachment, exactly the sort he had always warned Anakin against. Obi-wan was – had always known he was – a hypocrite. Perhaps he owed his old Padawan an apology. And a long overdue conversation, however much Anakin might want to avoid it.

"Oh," was all Satine said in response. When he dared to glance back at her, there was an unfathomable light in her eyes.

The proximity alert to Coruscant chose that moment to go off. Obi-wan sprang to his feet, his still muscles protesting at the sudden strain. He wasn't as young as he used to be. He belted himself into the seat, as Satine did the same to his right. They returned to real-space less than a minute later.

"Unidentified freighter, state your ship's identification number and the purpose of your visit." A bored-sounding traffic control agent greeted them a moment later.

Obi-wan rattled off the identification number. "This is Jedi Master Obi-wan Kenobi, returning to the Jedi Temple with Duchess Satine Kryze of Kalevala, who is requesting short-term political asylum."

"There appears to be a call waiting from the Chancellor," The traffic control agent's voice became suddenly more animated – this would likely be something for them to gossip about later. "Prepare for transmission."

"Acknowledged," Obi-wan replied, exchanging a startled glance with Satine. The _Chancellor?_ He had expected a reprimand from Mace, but the Chancellor?

There was a wait of a few minutes. The Chancellor was never one to hurry for another's convenience, not to bring an end to a twelve-hour senate session, and not to limit traffic clogging up the checkpoints around the galaxy's busiest planet. Finally, a holo of the Chancellor flickered into existence. "Master Obi-wan. My Lady Duchess," he nodded at Satine. "I was so glad to hear your rescue was successful."

How _had_ he heard? The Jedi Council would not have been eager to advertise his arguably rogue operation, and Death Watch was likely attempting to keep news of Satine's escape quiet. A spy? Obi-wan would not have expected reports from Mandalore to be flagged as top priority, not considering the Senate's obstinate refusal to so much as speak the planet's name recently. Anakin would say he was being too suspicious of the Chancellor again, and perhaps he was. But it would be easier to allay his suspicions if Palpatine would stop adding to them.

"Thank you, Chancellor. May I ask _how_ you learned of my rescue?" Satine was apparently on the same wavelength as him.

"I have a vested interest in the welfare of every planet in the galaxy, my dear," Palpatine dismissed her concerns. Obi-wan and Satine simultaneously narrowed their eyes at him. "However, I'm afraid I have some bad new to deliver."

And the Chancellor was taking the time out of his busy schedule to deliver it himself? "Oh?" Obi-wan asked, his tone forcibly light. "Do tell."

"The Senate has decided to deny all assistance to Mandalore or Mandalorian citizens for the foreseeable future, I'm afraid." The Chancellor sounded sincere – too sincere. Was that an undercurrent of satisfaction Obi-wan detected? It couldn't be. "Duchess Satine has been denied entrance to Coruscant. I'm afraid you'll have to seek assistance elsewhere, my dear."

"I see," She said, coldly, the words clipped. "Thank you for informing me, Chancellor. Good day." With that, Satine hung up on the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. The question of why the _Chancellor of the Galactic Republic_ had seen to deny her visa in person went unasked.

Obi-wan failed to move until a security droid beeped at them insistently. The force was delivering shock after shock today. He followed the droid's directions into a line for an outgoing hyperspace lane.

"Where to?" He asked.

Satine took only a moment to decide. "Kalevala."

"Isn't that a bit obvious?" He raised an eyebrow in incredulity, but began entering the coordinates.

"Yes, but I suspect my sister will have gone there. She defected." Satine explained. "Bo didn't take well to the force user executing Pre Viszla."

"Force use?" Obi-wan jerked back in shock. Pre Viszla was _dead?_ The navigation computer chirped as it began calculating their route.

"Oh, didn't I mention?" She started, but was interrupted by the chiming of Obi-wan's comm.

It was, of course, the Jedi Council. Who couldn't be bothered to have better timing. He tugged at his beard and sighed before picking up the call. It had already been a long, long thirty-six hours or so since he received Satine's message. How much worse could censure by his colleagues make the situation?

Obi-wan should have known better than to ask that question.

"Master Obi-wan," a tiny, blue representation of Mace Windu said. "You've made quite the spectacle of yourself."

"Have I?" Obi-wan lifted an eyebrow. "Seemed like an ordinary day to me." Satine huffed, and outright shoved him. He supposed he deserved that.

"You went against Council Orders, left your post without leave, _stole a shuttle –_ " That was the most ire Mace had directed at _him_ since he was a Padawan. In recent years, that tone had been reserved for Anakin. Or on very special occasions, Ahsoka _and_ Anakin. But mostly Anakin.

"Technically, I didn't go against Council Orders," Obi-wan interrupted Mace's rant to point out.

"You were informed the Jedi would not be involved in Mandalore." Mace's voice thinned with barely restrained anger. "The Senate has established a policy of non-interference in the Neutral Systems."

"I was informed the Jedi _Order_ would not be involved, yes," Obi-wan replied. He was enjoying this more than he should be – in that he was enjoying it at all – but it had been far too long since he had challenged the Council. Perhaps Anakin was right, and he should question their rulings more. This situation had begun to reveal cracks in the Order that had likely been there all along. "I was _not_ informed _I_ was forbidden from intervening."

"Obi-wan." Mace suddenly looked exhausted. Obi-wan felt a slight pang of guilt for his word games that he quickly let go into the force. "You _now_ have orders to return to the Temple immediately. To receive an official reprimand and your next post."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Master Windu," Obi-wan looked over at Satine as he spoke. "My passenger has been denied entry to Coruscant. I'll have to drop her off elsewhere before I can return."

Master Windu shook his head. "No, we need you back here immediately. Pull out of line, and we'll send a transport to bring you back. The Duchess may take the freighter to her destination and return it at a later time."

They had reached the front of the line. "You're breaking up, Master Windu. I'll have to call you back later." He switched off the comm link entirely, and sent the shuttle into hyperspace before the Council could request the traffic control agents stop them.

Satine threw her head back in laughter. "I can't believe you just did that."

"Neither can I," He said, smiling back at her. Defying the Council had been oddly freeing. He wondered if that was part of why Anakin made a point of it. Still, he would need to spend many hours in meditation after all this bending, if not outright breaking, the Jedi Code.

It had been many years since Obi-wan had visited Kalevala. Outwardly, the planet had changed little, though it appeared the wastelands had receded slightly further. He landed the freighter in the snow a few hundred meters from the Kryze Palace. They exited with their hands up – and were met shortly thereafter by a pair of familiar faces. Satine had been correct. Bo-Katan had returned home, and brought Satine's nephew with her.

As well as a contingent of fully armed former Death Watch members, who insisted on confiscating Obi-wan's lightsaber. He handed it over with what he considered to be minimal complaint.

Satine's nephew – Korkie? What had Satine's late brother been _thinking_ to name the boy _that?_ \-- ran up to give her a rib-crushing hug. She returned it with equal strength. As aunt and nephew were reunited, Obi-wan exchanged an awkward nod with Bo-katan.

Obi-wan considered himself lucky she hadn't shot him on sight, but apparently rescuing her sister was enough for Bo-katan to forgive him for being a Jedi.

Inside the palace, they were served tea and snacks, which Satine started on immediately. She hadn't had the chance to eat in the many hours since escaping Sundari, and he doubted Death Watch hospitality had been very generous.

Bo-katan waited only until Obi-wan had served himself a cup of tea to start questioning him. "Are you here to deal with the force-wielders, then?"

"What?" Obi-wan remembered belatedly that Satine had mentioned something about a force wielder before Mace had interrupted. It had slipped his mind. Who could she be --?

"Does a pair of Zabrak males with red lightsabers sound familiar?" Bo-katan crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. "I'm told Maul and Savage have escaped your grasp before?"

"They do indeed." He stamped down the rush of old anger at the mention of Maul, and placed a hand on his chin in contemplation. "Are they leading this takeover, then?" That seemed out of character for Maul, unless there was something else he wanted.

"With former Prime Minister Almec as a figurehead, yes." Bo-katan said. "Though it seems the younger of the two has not been seen since shortly after the Duchess's escape."

The only possible reason Obi-wan could think of for Maul's takeover of Mandalore was revenge. When had Maul had any other motivation since his improbable return? But how would he have known of Obi-wan's – feelings for Satine? If the freighter hadn't had such strong shields, if the Twilight's hyperdrive had been working, would Satine be --? Pondering that would lead him to anger, and anger could lead nowhere good. It hadn't happened. Obi-wan closed his eyes for a few seconds to let it go.

"I'm afraid I might be at fault for Maul's involvement." He confessed. "His behavior in the past has been motivated by a strong hatred of me."

"What exactly did you do to him?" Bo-katan asked, apparently more intrigued than irritated with him. At least so long as she thought she could count on Obi-wan to deal with him. Maul _was_ a formidable enemy.

"I cut him in half," Obi-wan said, shrugging. "After he killed my Master."

Satine gasped. "Obi!"

He realized then that he had never told her how Qui-gon died. They hadn't exactly been speaking when it happened, and she had never asked for the details once they were back in contact. Maul wasn't a topic Obi-wan enjoyed discussing.

"So, you'll be assisting us in reclaiming Sundari, then?" Bo-katan smirked, apparently more certain of the outcome than he was.

"Yes, I suppose I will," Obi-wan had not realized he would agree until he did so. But really, what other choice could he make? Maul was a threat, and one the Jedi Council had been ignoring for far too long. "But I'll need you to confiscate my comm. The Council can't order me back without it."

He took out his comm, tossed it across the table to Bo-katan. She caught it deftly. Obi-wan belatedly remembered someone who would _not_ be pleased to learn he had disappeared without letting him know again. _Oh, Anakin._ "Actually, could I make a personal call first? My former Padawan has a tendency to... take impulsive action if he thinks I might be in danger."

"Will I end up with Skywalker on my doorstep if I don't?" Bo-Katan asked.

"There's a high probability of that, yes," Obi-wan grimaced. Really, there was no need for Anakin to be that overprotective.

"Make the call," She tossed his comm back, and Obi-wan made the call.

"Obi-wan?" Anakin's voice answered, with no accompanying hologram. He sounded like the call had disturbed his sleep. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Obi-wan said. "I just wanted to let you know that I'll be delayed a while without contact, and not to worry. I'm not faking my death again."

"Alright, got to go," Anakin muttered, still more than half asleep. "Have fun."

"Tell Padmé I said hello," Obi-wan told him, suppressing a chuckle.

"Okay, I will," Anakin mumbled, and hung up. If _that_ had gotten no reaction out of him, Obi-wan was not certain his former Padawan would remember the conversation in the morning. _Oh, well._ Obi-wan thought as he surrendered his comm to Bo-katan. _He can't say I didn't try._

"Yes, that time you faked your death," Satine said flatly. "We really should talk about that."

Obi-wan paled. "Yes, I suppose we should."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was originally supposed to be one Obi-wan flashback chapters to catch up to the present, but it got way too long, so now there are two, and there will be eleven in total. That's a few longer than I meant it to be, and it's like 90% because Obi-wan has a lot of feelings.


	6. Obi-wan

_Yesterday_

Obi-wan had been on Kalevala for nearly two weeks, and they had yet to make a move on Maul. Though he relished the chance to plan his actions beforehand, rather than hastily sketching out a plan that would likely be thrown aside even before the initial engagement, as any attempt at planning tended to go with Anakin, Obi-wan had been out of contact with the Temple for far longer than he would have preferred.

Anakin was likely frantic by now, even if he did remember Obi-wan's call. He told himself not to worry. It only partially worked.

He scrolled through what little data Bo-Katan’s people had been able to gather on the state of affairs in Sundari for what must have been the thousandth time. It could be summed up in a few sentences. Both Zabrak brothers had disappeared almost immediately following Satine’s escape. Maul resurfaced a day later, taking out his rage on anyone who looked at him crosswise. Savage had yet to reemerge. Had the Apprentice betrayed the Master and failed? There was not enough intel to tell.

The movements of Death Watch revealed little more. Despite their warmongering, Death Watch had made no move to break Mandalorian neutrality. There could be any number of reasons for that – waiting for a signal, building an army, realizing the reality of war was less glamorous than they had assumed. There had been no signs of troop movements, and the latter seemed … unlikely. Almec gave speech after meaningless speech, promising glory would be returned to Mandalore, while Black Sun and the other syndicate of the so-called Shadow Collective ran roughshod over the populace.

Obi-wan tossed the datapad onto the desk to his right and sighed, habitually running a hand down his face to rest on his chin.

“Is this a bad time, Master Jedi?” A young man’s voice came from the doorway.

“Not at all, Korkie,” He smiled at the boy in welcome. Korkie had been a constant presence over the past two weeks, eager to contribute to the effort to reclaim his city and system, though he was too young and inexperienced to offer much of real strategic value. It seemed he had helped take down Almec once before. Though only after dragging Ahsoka, who had been detached to assist Satine with a related corruption case under the guise of teaching Korkie and his peers about the dangers of government corruption, into the path of danger and nearly getting himself, his friends and Ahsoka and Satine killed. “Take a seat.” He moved to the bed, allowing Korkie to take his place in the only chair in the room.

The boy took the offered seat, but hesitated before speaking, watching his hand pick at the smooth metal desk. “I wanted to talk to you about my aunt.”

“Oh?” Obi-wan had seen little of Satine outside of meetings and mealtimes since she admonished him for faking his death a few months earlier. He had not said much in reply, beyond apologizing whenever she had to stop for breath. When asked to go undercover as Rako Hardeen, Obi-wan had given little thought to the impact his supposed death would have on the people who cared for him – or how they would reach to learning it had all been a deception, their mourning false and undeserved. Anakin’s reaction had already hammered that point in. The eloquent lecture Satine delivered had been charitable in comparison, far less harsh than he deserved, and focused more on how he clearly hadn’t thought before agreeing than the distress he caused her.

When she finished making her point, Satine asked about his history with Maul, and listened intently to the dismal, improbable tale. Even to him, Maul’s survival remained unbelievable. At its end, Satine said nothing, expressing her sympathy in silence rather than words. They had sat, side-by-side, for a few short minutes until they were called for dinner.

It as possible they had been avoiding each other since. Obi-wan attempting to rid himself of this dangerous attachment to her yet again, as the Jedi code required. Satine no doubt protecting herself from their inevitable separation – or frustrated with his decision to help against Maul, facilitating the beginning of what would likely become yet another Mandalorian Civil War. Obi-wan honestly was not sure which.

Korkie nodded, still uncertain about his decision to approach Obi-wan, but persisted. “She’s seemed upset. Conflicted.”

“Well, that’s only reasonable, given recent events.” Obi-wan offered. He would be shocked and worried if she wasn’t.

“Of course, but,” Korkie hesitated. “She’s not talking about it. Not trying to find a non-violent solution. She hasn’t mentioned _pacifism_ since you arrived.”

Obi-wan arched his brow in disbelief. “You’re right, that is concerning.”

“I don’t know what your relationship is, but,” Korkie paused, blushing. His discomfort made it clear that he certainly had his suspicions. “Can you?” He squeaked.

“Yes, I’ll speak to her,” Obi-wan agreed, sighing internally.

Korkie grinned in relief. “Great, thank you! She’s in the dining room.” He dashed out of the room before Obi-wan could compose a reply.

Obi-wan scowled. He had not meant right that minute. He got up to seek her out anyway.

Satine was in fact in the dining room, engrossed in something on a datapad, an empty martini glass at her elbow. Her hair was down, her outfit simple and comfortable. It reminded him of their time on the run, when times were simpler, their paths in life seemingly so well defined.

Obi-wan had certainly thought so when he left, dedicating himself fully to the Jedi Code, while she took on the mantle of Duchess. He leaned against the doorframe, and waited for her to notice him. She didn’t take long.

“Obi-wan,” Satine said, smiling. “Would you care for a martini?” She moved toward the bar behind her without waiting for a response.

“Why not?” He smiled at her back, and went around the table to meet her at the bar. Satine did make an excellent martini.

Satine turned toward him, holding a pair of freshly shaken martinis. She never explained here she had developed her skill for making the best martinis he had tasted, to this day. As a Padawan, Obi-wan had been half-certain it was some mysterious Mandalorian secret, and half-certain she was withholding the information simply because she could.

He took a sip, letting the perfectly blended flavor wash over his tongue. “However _did_ you learn to make these?” Obi-wan asked, because he could.

“Obi, I’ve told you, a lady must have her secrets,” Satine grinned at him mysteriously over the rim of her glass. His heart stuttered. Well, now he was absolutely certain it was the latter reason. Never one to mince words, she sobered, and narrowed her eyes at him. “Now, why are you here?”

“I couldn’t have wanted to talk to an old friend?” He smirked, then cursed himself for it. Obi-wan was not a twenty-two-year-old Padawan anymore, and he needed to remember that. He always seemed to forget that detail around Satine.

“You forget that I know you.” Her mouth twisted in amusement. “What is it?”

“Your nephew asked me to speak to you,” Obi-wan admitted. “He’s concerned that you don’t seem to be plotting anything.”

“Of course, he is.” Satine sighed, and put down her glass. “He’s young. Even I know when a battle can’t be won with words – it’s not like you haven’t tried to reason with this Darth Maul in the past. I haven’t given up. I’m just saving my strategy until you’ve – taken him into custody. If that’s possible.”

“I must say, that’s surprisingly practical of you,” Obi-wan had not meant to say that. Why did Satine’s proximity make him lose all control over his tongue? That had been nearly as bad a line as the infamous, “beautiful, for a senator,” line Anakin had somehow thought a compliment. Though not quite. Thankfully, Obi-wan still had more dignity than that.

Satine, predictably, bristled. “Oh, you utter – Obi-wan?”

Obi-wan fell to his knees, reeling in shock. His glass slipped from trembling fingers, and shattered on the floor, splashing alcohol across the floor. His mind failed to process what the force was telling him. Some part of him was dimly aware of Satine holding onto his shoulders, saying something, concern etched onto her face. That was – That had been – That had been his bond to Anakin. Snapping. But Anakin wasn’t – Anakin couldn’t be –

This was _Anakin._ He _had_ to be wrong. “I—,” he started, but was cut off by a fresh wave of pain, echoing through the force like thousands of individual blaster shots to his head. Black spots danced in his vision.

And then they were gone.

The force felt vacant, _wrong_. Unbalanced. Void of the warmth that was the thousands of Jedi spread across the galaxy. Wiped out in the space of an instant.

The Sith had won.

“Obi-wan! Obi-wan!” He gradually became aware of Satine calling his name, unsure of how much time had passed. His cheeks felt wet, and he realized he was crying.

“I’m --,” He began, and stopped. Gathered himself. Stood, pulling Satine up with him. Restarted. “Don’t call for a doctor. It was the force. Something terrible has happened. I need to know what.”

She nodded, and stepped back. Obi-wan was grateful for that, certain that if she offered him comfort, he would crumble. And he did need to know what had happened.

It was the work of several minutes to persuade Bo-Katan this needed to be addressed immediately. In the end, it was Satine losing her temper and shouting, “It’s not just _Jedi nonsense._ This is _important_!” That got through. Bo-Katan turned on a holoprojector on her desk, and toggled through the channels to find the HoloNet News.

“It appears the Jedi have attempted a coup –”

“Attempted assassination of Chancellor Palpatine—”

“A new galactic Empire has been declared –”

“Order 66 as a contingency plan, the Emperor has suspected the Jedi of treachery for some time –”

“All hostilities have stopped –”

“The droid armies appear to have shut down –”

Obi-wan’s ears rang as he attempted to process what he had just heard. None of it made sense. All of it was impossible. The Jedi, traitors? The Chancellor, Emperor?

The only reason the Jedi would have moved against the Chancellor was if – “The Chancellor is the Sith Lord.” He said under his breath. Satine gasped, and Bo-Katan startled. If he had been in the company of most other non-Force users in the galaxy, they would have no idea what he meant. But Satine and her sister were old Mandalorian nobility, and Mandalore’s long hatred of the Jedi meant they learned more of their lore. “Dooku _told me_ all those years ago. That there was a Sith controlling the Senate. And I ignored him. How could I have been so _stupid_?”

Obi-wan knew he needed to right things – to take out the Emperor – immediately. He told Satine and Bo-Katan as much.

“No.” Both sisters said at the same time. Satine passionately, Bo-Katan as though she were declining an extra serving at dinner.

“Am I a prisoner here?” Obi-wan’s voice rose, emotion slipping through. “Would you have me sit here and do nothing, while the Sith who declared himself Emperor turns the galaxy into his _personal playground?_ Do you think he’ll be content to leave Mandalore alone?”

“Tell me, Obi,” Satine said, taking his arms, and forcing him to look her in the eyes. “How, exactly do you plan to gain access to Palpatine? Not to mention Coruscant itself, where a full blockade has just been established? You can’t do anything on your own. _Please_ take some time, and think first.  I don’t want to lose you.”

Her argument as all so _reasonable._ And Obi-wan was in no mood to be _reasonable_ His friends, his family, his _entire culture_ gone, – and he as acting like Anakin, allowing his emotions to rule him. If there was a way to honor the Jedi dead, rushing across the galaxy to attempt an assassination was not it. As much as it would hurt, Obi-wan would have to deal with his grief before he could hope to make any kind of difference in this new, darker galaxy. Satine, loathe as he was to admit it, was correct.

He nodded jerkily, and left the room quickly, hurrying back to his room clinging to shreds of forced composure to hold off breaking down until he was out of sight of prying eyes.

As he reached his door, a hand grabbed him by the elbow. Obi-wan attempted to jerk away, only to find Satine’s compassionate gaze staring back at him. The fight went out of him. He allowed her to pull him inside. Obi-wan’s knees went out as Satine shut the door behind them.

She knelt beside him, and drew him forward to rest his head against her shoulder. An unconscious reversal of the time after the escape from Mandalore. Without anyone around to feel the effects of his emotions, perhaps not anywhere in the galaxy, Obi-wan let them ash through him, his heart breaking over-and-over again.

It was a long, long time before he felt stable enough to begin the process of letting them go. He knew it would be longer yet before he could even contemplate letting Anakin go.

_The Present_

Obi-wan sat alone in his room, attempting to meditate. It wasn’t working. His emotions remained in too much disarray to clear his mind successfully. Every time he got close, he was sent into another tailspin by the gaping void the Force had become.

While Obi-wan knew he wasn’t close to falling yet, the longer he went without properly dealing with his feelings, the more unstable he would become. He attempted to clear his mind again, focusing on his breathing, a trick he hadn’t often needed to find his center in years. The Force was the Force, it was in everyone and everything. If the Force felt different, it was still the Force. All Obi-wan had to do was allow himself to accept that as truth.

For the moment that ability escaped him.

Giving up on true meditation for the moment, Obi-wan focused instead on feeling the Force in his surroundings. In the individuals in the Kryze Palace, in the animals and plants of Kalevala, the force felt like it always had. The force as a whole had shifted, yes, sliding out of balance toward the dark, yet it remained the force.

Somewhere nearby, he sensed a familiar, but somehow strange presence. But no, it couldn’t be. Obi-wan opened his eyes, and sprinted toward the largest collection of Force presences in the Palace.

The throne room was buzzing with activity, Satine and Bo-Katan standing in the center of the room arguing. Obi-wan wasn’t certain how they heard each other over the Nite Owls rushing around with half-on armor. Bo-Katan took a break from arguing at her sister to shout orders. Something about intruders. So, someone _was_ here.

Knowing he would be forced to stay back if anyone noticed him, Obi-wan ducked out of the room and headed for the armory. For the second time in as many weeks, he donned a set of someone else’s specifically tailored and therefore uncomfortable Mandalorian armor, this time in the Bo-Katan’s blue and grey. He grabbed a jet pack from the spare supply and buckled it on, fiddling with the unfamiliar controls to ensure he could at least take off. Updates had been made since the last time he needed to use one, with just enough differences to make flying one a daunting prospect. Not that he would have enjoyed doing so under any circumstances. Ensuring he didn’t break his neck would have to be played by ear.

With the helmet on, he met no challenge as he left the compound. Bo-Katan’s contingent had already taken off, trails of exhaust in the distance indicating their trajectory. Obi-wan switched on the jet pack and rocketed into the sky, twisting in mid-air and nearly crashing into a bush before finding his balance. If he crashed so easily, Anakin would never let him forget it.

_Anakin_.

Obi-wan could not let himself think about Anakin. He needed to focus. He flew close to the tops of the trees in the direction the warriors had gone. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far. He landed none too gently in a deeper than expected snowdrift, but kept his feet beneath him.

When he took in the sight before him, his jaw dropped. He tore his helmet off to ensure the vizor was not somehow deceiving him. Depa Bilaba and Caleb Dume, the Padawan whose intelligent questions Obi-wan liked to encourage, were easy enough to recognize. And the man in the jag-eye helmet he assumed was Rex though why this particular trooper captain would be fighting _with_ Jedi instead of trying to kill them escaped him. In the holo-recordings Obi-wan had forced himself to watch, the troopers hadn’t seemed to have much choice in the matter, their movements oddly mechanical as they executed their Jedi immediately upon receiving Order 66.

But the tall Togruta spinning gracefully between Bo-Katan’s warriors, easily throwing one aside, and subduing two others with white lightsabers blazing – all in a matter of seconds? The force told him it was Ahsoka. His eyes told him that was impossible. Ahsoka was a petite, snippy teenager, not a tall, confident adult. For once, Obi-wan was not sure which to listen to.

Then she saw him. And her face lit up in an expression so innately Ahsoka that he could no longer deny this was his Grand Padawan.

“Do you surrender?” She asked the Mandalorians pointedly. They said nothing in reply. Ahsoka sighed, and switched off her lightsabers. She swung the hilts down on their heads before they could so much as blink. Both Mandalorians crumpled instantly. She looked around to confirm her companions had handled their opponents. Satisfied that they had, Ahsoka sprinted across the battlefield to jump into his arms. Apparently underestimating her strength, she knocked him backwards into the snowdrift.

She squeaked in embarrassment, and sprang away, one hand going behind her head in a way that was familiar, yet jarring on her older features. “Sorry.”

Obi-wan climbed to his feet more slowly. He noted that Bo-Katan as conscious, but held back by young Caleb’s lightsaber. That had to sting. “I take it you know each other?” Bo-Katan asked, attempting to glare in three different directions at once.

“Yes,” Obi-wan replied. “And I would appreciate it if we could all come to a ceasefire long enough to learn how they knew to find me here. I do hope that’s not too much to ask.” At Bo-Katan’s nod, he continued. “Right. Well, then. Shall we make our way inside? Have a proper discussion over tea? Have a proper discussion over tea? Or are we all going to sit around here and freeze?”

Ahsoka blinked, then burst out laughing. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Master Obi-wan. Please, lead the way.” She bowed slightly indicating the way back to the palace with her outstretched right hand. Despite his confusion, Obi-wan felt his first spark of hope since Order 66.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much as I would have liked to get rid of Maul, I have plans for him. Sorry to the person who wanted him gone!


	7. Obi-wan and Ahsoka

Ahsoka set down her teacup, sat back in her chair in the small meeting room, and waited for Obi-wan to ask her something else. Depa had offered to apprise the Kryzes of how they had escaped Order 66, and why they had chosen to come here, while Kanan and Rex reluctantly stayed back with the younglings and Kix in the ship. That left Ahsoka free to speak privately with Obi-wan.

They had already covered the escape from the temple, and the journey here, but he had yet to ask her the questions that had to be eating at him, though Ahsoka had hinted at her origins with her knowledge of the chips and criminal enterprises. And how she had guessed his location based on her acquaintance with Bo-Katan, who this timeline’s Ahsoka would only every have fought that time Lux decided joining Death Watch was a brilliant idea.

Not that she had any idea where to start now that she was here. What did he know? Had news of Anakin’s fall reached him? She doubted it. Obi-wan looked exhausted, bags under his eyes, his expression bleak. But there was less grey in his hair than she remembered, a shade less grief than in the warning hologram he had sent to any surviving Jedi. Part of that was likely due to the knowledge there were other Jedi left, that Maul had not murdered the Duchess in front of him, that he knew his Grand Padawan was alive. Obi-wan felt miserable in the force, the strength of his emotions slipping past his ordinarily impenetrable shields, but not shattered.

Not how Ahsoka had felt upon learning that news. How she stiff felt, even after accepting that she could not save her old Master in the Lothal Temple. Upon learning that even by going back in time, Ahsoka could only hope to limit the damage he caused, not prevent it entirely. That she could never _save_ Anakin.

Most likely the difference was that Obi-wan had not born witness to the slaughter in the Temple – and did not yet know of Anakin’s betrayal.

And he must have known. Who else could have put Anakin in Vader’s suit? But that was not a question Ahsoka could ever find the answer to now.

Obi-wan took a sip of his own tea. “I suppose I’ll just have to ask then,” he sighed. “How are you here? Or rather, how are you twenty or so years older than you should be?”

Ahsoka crossed her arms, and asked, “Remember Mortis?”

“I try not to,” He said dryly.

She laughed harshly. “I haven’t had that luxury. Something Mortis-related brought me here, though I don’t know how, exactly. You see, I walked through a portal eighteen years from now, expecting to return to Malachor, where I had been fighting the Sith known as Vader two years earlier, until –Kan – Caleb Dume’s Padawan pulled me out of the timeline at the Daughter’s urging. Instead, I woke up in the Jedi temple, in what appears to be a timeline that diverged from my own about two weeks ago. Given the Duchess’s survival, and my counterpart’s execution.”

Obi-wan blinked, and set his teacup down carefully on its saucer. “What?” he said faintly. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m starting to think nothing is impossible.” Ahsoka calmly took a sip of her own tea. While she had never been the tea connoisseur Obi-wan was, this as a nice change from the few brands of anything still available under Imperial rationing. She would enjoy it while it lasted.

“You said in your… timeline, the Duchess as killed?” Obi-wan was clearly doing his best to maintain his composure. Under the present circumstances, Ahsoka as just happy he wasn’t calling her a liar and storming out. But that would have been a very _Anakin_ thing to do, so of course Obi-wan wouldn’t do that. “And in this one you were _executed?”_

“I’m not sure what changed, in either case. I remember you asked Anakin to borrow the Twilight, and came back without it. You refused to talk about it,” Ahsoka explained. “I only learned Maul killed her in front of you later. From Bo-Katan, actually.”

Obi-wan looked slightly green. “The Twilight’s hyperdrive was down. I took a freighter with shields.”

“That would do it.” Ahsoka said. “And as for the execution. Did you hear about the Jedi Temple bombing?” At his look of confusion, she explained further. “The temple was bombed about a week ago in this timeline by someone using nanodroids. Anakin and I were called back to investigate, but I was framed. In my timeline, Anakin managed to stop my execution by catching the real perpetrator, Barriss Offee. But in this one he didn’t. That seems to have sped up events.”

“Sped up…?” Obi-wan asked.

Ahsoka opened her mouth to reply, still unsure how she would manage to say it, but was cut off.

“Hey Kenobi,” Bo-Katan’s head popped in through the door. “You might want to see this.”

Back in the throne room, a holovid was paused on the image of a Nautolan reporter. Noting their entrance, Satine resumed playback. It quickly became clear that the reporter was on a speeder near the Senate building. She began speaking, quickly and excitedly. For a reporter, the government turnover was the opportunity of the century. “I’m coming to you from Emperor Palpatine’s private landing pad at the Imperial Senate, where an assassination attempt on the Emperor’s personal enforcer appears to have occurred.”

The camera panned down to show a red-skinned Mikkian Jedi Ahsoka though might be Master Tiplar – or was it Tiplee? Holding her lightsaber at the ready to fend off a figure hooded in black, holding a familiar blue lightsaber. “As HoloNet News has previously reported the Emperor’s enforcer, the Lord Vader, was the sole Jedi Knight known to have stayed loyal to the Emperor during the attempted coup. He’s credited with foiling the assassination attempt lead by the now deceased Jedi General Mace Windu. He had just returned from a mission to deal with the remaining Separatist Leaders, all of whom save Count Dooku, have now been executed, when the Jedi attacked. Rewards are being offered for any information on the whereabouts of Count Dooku.”

The Jedi jumped toward Vader, her tightly controlled style a counterpart to his forceful one, though not nearly his match. It was immediately obvious who the victor would be. The Jedi was quickly forced onto the defensive. With each clash of their lightsabers, the Jedi lost ground. A few seconds later it was over. Vader’s lightsaber plunged through the Jedi’s chest, and she crumpled, her lightsaber dropping onto the platform, flickering off. Vader pulled the saber into his hand, and pushed the Jedi’s body off the platform, letting Anakin’s lightsaber fall along with her. Vader focused on the stolen lightsaber for a long moment. The shadows surrounding him grew deeper, visible even through the holo.

When he lit the lightsaber, it was red. Vader pushed back his hood, and Anakin Skywalker, whole and mask-free, smirked at the camera. Ahsoka’s heart sank.

 

“Those who followed our reporting on the Clone Wars will recognize Lord Vader as former Jedi General Anakin Skywalker,” the reporter continued, but for Obi-wan it was unnecessary.

Obi-wan stared at the still moving hologram, unseeing and unhearing. His mind whirled. The ground seemed to tilt beneath him. Before he knew what he was doing, Obi-wan strode out of the palace, and into the garden. He stopped beneath a tree, resting his forehead on the rough bark.

It couldn’t be true. Not Anakin. Anakin, his Padawan, his brother. Overly emotional and reckless, yes, but on the path for greatness. Not because some prophecy claimed it, but because of who _Anakin_ as. So dedicated to justice, to righting wrongs, to making the galaxy a better place.

Anakin who was Palpatine’s protégé. Anakin who had always mistrusted the Jedi Council, the Senate, the Republic. Anakin who so easily lost control of his anger. Anakin who thought so little of the cost in lives, so long as he believed he was fighting for what was _right._

He wanted to scream. To rage against the universe. To deny it. Death would have better than this. _Anakin’s_ death would have been better than this. He felt the force swirl around him, darkness closing in, trying to tempt him.

Obi-wan closed his eyes, and forced himself to breath, to feel the cold bark on his skin, the wind in his hair. His breaths came in short rasps, then slowed. He let the anger fade, and the darkness receded. He would not allow the dark side another victory today. Obi-wan had not come close to reconciling knowledge with belief. But he refused to lose himself in his grief. The galaxy could not afford it.

The force alerted him to Ahsoka’s presence behind him. “Did you know?” he asked, without moving.

“I did.” She admitted. “I didn’t want you to find out like that.”

He turned away from the tree, and leaned against it. Sliding down to sit in the snow, he rested his head on his knees. “I don’t suppose I would have believed you if you told me.”

Ahsoka dropped a cloak over his shoulders, and crouched down in front of him. “Perhaps not. When he I first found out, I fainted. Then nearly got myself killed trying to save him.”

“So, he’s truly gone, then,” Obi-wan whispered, though his heart refused to believe it. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“I don’t know that, not for sure.” She spoke slowly, but assertively. “I know there’s nothing _I_ can do. The Force itself made that _very_ clear, when it pulled me out of time to stop me from letting whatever’s left of Anakin kill me. But I know of two cases that say it’s not impossible.”

He looked up in confusion. “No one can come back from the dark side.”

“Ventress, and Quinlan Vos, but I only know the story secondhand,” Ahsoka contradicted him, and everything Obi-wan had every believed. “And I only know it was somehow related to love.”

“That hasn’t happened here.” Obi-wan pointed out, shoving the sliver of hope aside. If it was somehow possible to bring Anakin back, he wouldn’t find answers with Ahsoka.

“No, this is all happening about eight months early. Utapau and Kashyyyk haven’t even been invaded yet,” Ahsoka said. “I have no idea how that will change what happens going forward, how much of what I know will be useless.”

“But you do know things that may be able to – help, somehow.” Obi-wan forced himself to stop dwelling on Anakin. Vader. And focused on action instead.

“I did run intelligence and communications for the Rebellion, yes,” Ahsoka’s mouth twitched wryly to one side. “So that would be a good bet.”

“Let’s start with how you survived Order 66 the first time.” He suggested.

Ahsoka’s lekku twitched, and she hesitated. “Well, to start with, after I was cleared from the bombing, I left the Jedi Order.”

“You what?” Obi-wan nearly shouted it.

“I left the Jedi Order.” She repeated. “I couldn’t stay after they gave me up without a real investigation. And I realized – the Jedi, the war. Well, I realized I needed to figure out what _I_ believed. I was asked to come back to the GAR, eventually, to assist with fighting Maul at the Siege of Mandalore. That was the last time I saw you, and the last time I saw Anakin, rather than Vader. You were called away, and Order 66 happened not long afterwards. Rex had found out about the chips, and removed his. We faked our deaths, and went into hiding separately. I know you survived the initial wave there, too -you sent out a warning for any surviving Jedi – but I don’t think it was for long. I never heard anything of you after that.”

“I see,” he said, still reeling slightly from yet another shock, though this one was less overwhelming. “And you somehow ended up leading a rebellion?”

“One aspect of it.” Ahsoka said, though Obi-wan had a feeling she was underestimating her own importance. “Bail Organa was one of the real leaders. He got word of a Jedi, when I tried to help a town the empire was exploiting, and sent two of his people to find me. I took them out, realized they had Artoo with them, and he helped me break into Bail’s office on his personal ship. I got my pick of jobs, after that.”

“And you chose organizing intelligence.” Obi-wan said skeptically.

“It needed to be done.” Ahsoka stood, and dusted off her armor before holding out a hand to him. “What do you say we continue this conversation inside?”

He hadn’t noticed the cold until she pointed it out. Suddenly shivering, Obi-wan accepted Ahsoka’s assistance and followed her inside. He would push his inner turmoil aside for the moment. Not to ignore it, but to deal with when he had the luxury of breaking down alone. For now, plans needed to be made.

 

Ahsoka looked around the table in the Kryzes’ dining room, which had been turned into a make-shift war room. It was like sitting in a room full of the dead. Everyone present, save Rex and Bo-Katan, was dead in her timeline, or at least presumed so. Now that they were reasonably assured none of Bo-Katan’s people would immediately attempt to kill them or turn them in to the Empire, Rex and Kanan had brought the others back to the Stronghold.  Kix was watching over the younglings – and last she saw being dragged around the garden much more actively than Doc had deemed safe, so soon after surgery. Then again, Rex had been in a fight, and seemed fine, and Kix was a trained medic, so who was she to judge? He could handle himself. Ahsoka hoped she had chosen her approach to the strategy meeting they were now holding as well.

Problem: the average non-force-sensitive would not accept time travel as an acceptable reason for her fore-knowledge. It wasn’t something the _Jedi_ knew about, though Ahsoka would not have put it past the Order to have such information hidden somewhere in the archives and simply forgotten about it. Palpatine had learned of the Lothal Temple somehow.

Solution: Nope, she didn’t have one yet.

Thankfully, although the Duchess had definitely noticed Ahsoka was the wrong age, she had spent enough time around Jedi to know when realizing something she suspected to be Force-related would cause problems. True, the only real risk was Bo-Katan. But what she planned to propose required Bo-Katan’s cooperation most of all.

As it was, Bo-Katan was already questioning why she or Satine should take the advice of Jedi on anything. Unfortunately, that meant that Ahsoka needed to be discreet. The wrong statement could put the future of any Rebellion activity on Mandalore at risk. It was difficult to remember what she had learned from the other Bo-Katan any of the times they had worked together over the years, and what Ahsoka could feasibly have discovered on the HoloNet.

“Swear loyalty? We will _never_ swear loyalty to some upstart Empire,” Bo-Katan huffed, crossing her arms and leaning back in a motion that was probably meant to be intimidating.

“I must admit I’m not pleased with the notion myself,” The Duchess said, much more diplomatically. “Why are you advising this, Master Jedi?”

That was addressed to Obi-wan and Depa, as well as Ahsoka, but she did not contest her inclusion. There was a time and a place to insist she was not a Jedi, and this was not it.

“Former Chancellor Palpatine declares the Jedi manufactured the war, but he purged the Jedi Order using chips built into the heads of the soldiers we supposedly created? He announces the war has ended and the droid armies all just … stop?” Obi-wan gestured at the chips that had been extracted from Rex and Kix’s heads, which were not sitting on the table. “And you don’t find that the slightest bit suspicious?”

“Oh, it’s suspicious.” The Duchess replied. “What that doesn’t tell me, Master Kenobi, is why Mandalore should just roll over and accept this new Empire.”

Ahsoka brought up a list of Imperial Navy statistics on a holoprojector placed in the center of the table. It was unlikely to be a complete list, as these were only the files made publicly available under the Republic, but even so the ratio of Imperial to Mandalorian resources was damning. “You can’t negotiate with a Sith Lord, Duchess. And You can’t win an outright war with the Empire. At least not now. What you _can_ do is let them take care of your little Death Watch problem for you, and play nice.”

“And build up an opposition behind the scenes?” Bo-Katan asked, doubtful. “While letting the Empire gather even more power?”

“Not just you,” Ahsoka countered. “This is a galaxy-wide problem. You’ll have allies.” The Duchess looked thoughtful, but Bo-Katan remained unconvinced.

“Put a different way, who would you rather have controlling the day-to-day affairs of the system?” Obi-wan was ever the consummate negotiator. Even radiating sorrow, he knew how to phrase his arguments. “One of you? Or some imperial-appointed governor?”

“I see your point. But it can’t be me, can it?” The Duchess asked, her voice soft and contemplative. “Palpatine is too familiar with my beliefs, after the incident two years ago. Or after I, uh. Hung up on him the other day.”

“You hung up on the _Emperor?_ ” Kanan blurted out, wide-eyed.

“I did,” The Duchess sat a little straighter at the sound of the aw in the Padawan’s voice, and her mouth turned up slightly at the corner. Ahsoka fought to keep a straight face, and mostly succeeded, but Rex snorted in amusement. “Emperor Palpatine would never believe I would swear loyalty to a tyrannical empire. Bo, you’ll have to do it.”

             The Duchess had suggested exactly the solution Ahsoka was hoping for, without her having to bring it up herself. She inwardly pumped a fist in the air. Politics was not her strong suit, but it seemed she had spent enough time around politicians over the years to understand the basics.

             “What? No, I’m no leader.” Bo-Katan protested, her eyes going wide with shock.

             “I believe in you. You’ve just never had the right motivation before.” The Duchess smiled sadly at her sister.

             “Bo-Katan _would_ make the best choice,” Obi-wan agreed. “From the traditional ruling family, but publicly distant from Satine. They won’t suspect it’s a cover.”

             “I’ll do it.” Bo-Katan set her shoulders, and decided. “Now. Who are these allies?”

             “I have it on good authority that the leaders of several powerful systems have begun setting up the beginnings of a Rebellion.” Obi-wan said. The good authority was, of course, Ahsoka. “Though they are likely to attempt to reach a diplomatic solution at first, and focus on relief missions.”

             “There’s also the matter of local resistance,” Ahsoka added. “Uprisings on planets exploited for resources. Not to mention many Separatist worlds will be none too pleased with the change in government.”

             “And this dark Jedi? Vader?” Bo-Katan asked pointedly. “I assume you’ll be taking care of him?”

             Ahsoka said no at the same time as Obi-wan said yes. They frowned at each other.

             “Not immediately,” She amended, directing her response at Obi-wan. “ _Maybe_ we could defeat him no if we caught him off guard. But if we failed…”

             “That would leave the galaxy without Jedi strong enough to pose a threat to the Emperor.” Depa finished for her. “I certainly couldn’t match Vader or the Emperor in combat.”

             “Not to mention the Emperor will be – will likely train other Force sensitives in the ways of the Dark Side,” Ahsoka flinched internally at the near slip. “That will happen whether or not Vader is around. Personally, I prefer him in charge of them to a complete unknown.” Vader was not the Anakin Ahsoka loved, but he was still Anakin. Understanding crossed Obi-wan’s face, but he still looked displeased. Some part of him likely hoped to take Vader down with him. But Ahsoka thought she knew how that would end.

             “What _will_ you be doing, then?” Bo-Katan demanded. “If you’re expecting us to surrender, but put our people at risk building a rebellion and just sit around on your asses…”

             Ahsoka shrugged. “Set up a base. Gather information. Recruit. Disrupt Imperial movements. Help people where we can. Stuff like that.”

             “We’ll _also_ be training a new generation of Jedi.” Depa announced. Ahsoka started. That _was_ something that might be an option here, something she hadn’t considered. But was it a _good_ idea? If Depa were successful, she might prevent some Inquisitors form being made. But it would need to be very low profile. And how could they ask parents to give up their force-sensitive children? To fight in a rebellion that didn’t even exist yet?

             “Train _children_ to fight?” The Duchess was horrified. Ahsoka didn’t like the idea much more than she did. The idea of more younglings groomed for war from a young age, like her, or even worse, like the clones, did not sit well with her. And who would be teaching them? Certainly not Ahsoka.

             But she could give them a safe location – one that to Ahsoka’s knowledge had never been discovered by the Empire.

“Train them, yes,” She cut off both Obi-wan and Depa’s replies. “But as a former child soldier myself, I will not be party to forcing younglings into battle. That will be their choice to make. As adults. If you want my help in finding a safe location for your academy, that is.”

Kanan, who was clearly convinced he was ready to jump into the fight, did not look pleased at that.

“If nothing else, we can save younglings the Emperor will otherwise exploit or murder,” Obi-wan added, meeting the Duchess’s eyes. “Ahsoka is right, the Jedi sent Padawans into war far too soon.”

             “Where would you go to keep them safe, then?” The Duchess asked.

             “I know a planet that isn’t on any map,” Ahsoka said. “Do you know where I can get some sensor beacons?”

 

             The next morning, Obi-wan found Ahsoka, Rex, and Padawan Dume taking apart the freighter he had arrived in bit-by-bit. He hadn’t slept a wink, focused entirely on processing his grief over the Jedi, over _Anakin’s_ fall. He had perhaps made a marginal improvement in his emotional stability, though it was possible Obi-wan was mistaking the tiredness-induced fuzziness and disconnection that was currently pervading his mind for progress. He stared a full minute before his brain agreed with his eyes. His Grand Padawan was, in fact, disassembling a perfectly functional ship.

             Padawan Dume attempted to grab a sonic-wrench out of Rex’s hand, but the Captain lifted it out of his reach. The boy jumped for it, and Rex tossed it to Ahsoka, who caught it without looking, and used it to unfasten a bolt. Only for Padawan Dume to tackle her. She allowed him to knock her to the ground, laughing, but tossed the wrench back at Rex before the boy could snatch it. The lighthearted and playful scene triggered a hollow feeling in Obi-wan’s chest. As the Padawan scrambled to his feet, Obi-wan cleared his throat.

             Ahsoka climbed to her feet, while Padawan Dume blushed furiously, mumbling apologies. Rex saluted with a chuckle. “Would you mind telling me, why, exactly, you’re dismantling my ship?” Obi-wan raised an eyebrow at them.

             Ahsoka indicated the shuttle behind her with her thumb. “This happens to be a Jedi freighter.”

“Yes, it does. And?” Neither Obi-wan’s tone nor expression shifted. Ahsoka and Rex both failed to be properly intimidated, but he was used to that. Padawan Dume, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably.

“Try landing it in any port, and you’ll have Imperials after you within seconds.” She explained, as though that should have been obvious.

“And that means you need to take it apart because…?” Really it was almost like talking to _Anakin_. And Obi-wan was not going there.

“The parts could be useful.” Ahsoka shrugged. “Since we need to keep a low profile. This shield generator, especially. I can modify it to be more effective, and install it on my ship.”

Obi-wan thought the shield was plenty effective as it was, but he wasn’t the one with technological expertise from over a decade in the future. “Speaking of your ship, I thought we could use it to contact Senators Amidala and Organa.”

“You don’t want the Mandalorians listening in?” Rex asked, immediately on his guard.

“I think it would be wise to speak to him here we can’t be overheard first, yes,” He replied. Obi-wan trusted Satine, but they didn’t always see eye-to-eye. And he had no such faith in her sister.

“Alright. It’s as good a time as any to install this.” Ahsoka hefted the shield generator with Rex’s help, while Padawan Dume began to lead the way back to where they had left the ship the day before. “Slow down, Kanan, this thing is heavy!”

Padawan Dume stopped, and looked back at Ahsoka in surprise. “Kanan?”

“Kriff,” Ahsoka muttered. “Sorry, I keep forgetting that’s not your name here.”

“Why would I have changed – oh. He was on the run.” The boy’s face fell at the reminder, and he seemed to shrink in on himself. He shook his head back and forth quickly, brushing it off. “Kanan. Huh. I kind of like it? You can keep calling me that if you want.”

He grinned sheepishly. Ahsoka’s answering smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds.

“Sure, kid,” Rex removed a hand from the generator to ruffle the Padawan’s hair. “Now why don’t we keep moving before my arms fall off?”

             Padawan Dume started off again, slower this time. His brightness seemed forced to Obi-wan, a façade the boy was putting forth to show the world he hadn’t broken, when he probably had. Obi-wan made a mental note to mention his observations to Depa, though she had probably already noticed.

Obi-wan did not want to fail to attribute sufficient importance to the emotional troubles he observed in others. Not again. He had all too rarely tried to have a real conversation on such matters with Anakin, and let his former Padawan dodge discussing whatever was troubling him far too easily. He had never let Anakin know he _understood_. Had Anakin even known how much Obi-wan cared? He doubted it.

Lost in his thoughts, Obi-wan was startled to notice they had reached the ship. Padawan Dume raced up the ramp, his older companions following at a more sedate pace. Actually, was Rex older? It was likely the two were born in the same year, and yet Rex looked old enough to be the boy’s father. Not for the first time, Obi-wan regretted his failure after the First Battle of Geonosis to question the continued use of the army that had so conveniently fallen into the Jedi’s laps. They had known something was wrong, and done nothing.

Force, they had all been so _blind._

He looked up to note the others staring at him in concern. Obi-wan waved them off, and made his way into the cockpit. He activated the holoprojector, keying in the code to Padmé’s private line. Ahsoka followed him inside, but lay down beneath the control panel, and began fiddling with the wiring. The other two did not follow. Obi-wan might not have Ahsoka’s expertise with ships, but he was decently certain shield generators did not directly hook up to control panels. She was hovering. He sighed.

The call failed. He tried again. Another failure. He tried Bail’s office instead.

The call went through, and Bail’s hologram appeared a moment later. “Obi-wan! You’re alive!” His friend peered uncertainly at him, taking in the details of his face as though he might be an imposter. Which, he supposed, was a fair concern, given the time Obi-wan had borrowed a bounty hunter’s face.

“Hello, Bail,” He said, injecting a facsimile of his usual sardonic amusement into his voice.

“Did Padmé find you?” Bail asked, his face breaking into an animated smile.

“What?” Obi-wan furrowed his brow. He was about to ask what Bail meant, but Ahsoka interrupted.

“Padmé’s alive?” Ahsoka gasped, and sat up, nearly hitting her head on the paneling. She got to her feet and leaned against the projector table, in range of the camera. Apparently without thinking. An image of her would have appeared in Bail’s office. Obi-wan had hoped to ease into that explanation, but too late now. Ahsoka might have grown into a collected, self-aware woman, but she had still spent her formative years under the tutelage of Anakin Skywalker, and the propensity for rashness shoed. _Stop thinking about Anakin._

“Of course Padmé’s alive.” Bail replied automatically, and frowned. “Who are you?”

“Ahsoka Tano,” She said, too casually.

Bail startled, his image jerking backwards and flickering. “What is this? Ahsoka Tano is dead.”

“Guess I can’t be her, then.” Ahsoka shrugged flippantly.

“Ahsoka.” Obi-wan chided his Grand Padawan, though she might have picked up that tendency to deflect from him.

“What?” Her eyes widened, feigning innocence. Obi-wan rolled his on.

“The only Ahsoka Tano I’m aware of was one Padawan Tano, student of Anakin Skywalker,” Suspicion had returned to Bail’s voice and expression.

“That was me.” Ahsoka said.

Clearly, she wasn’t, so Obi-wan did it for her, rather than allow that futile exchange to continue. “The answer to the question you’re not asking is time travel, along with some possible dimension hopping.”

“Chock it up to the mysteries of the force, Bail.” Ahsoka added. “It’s not any less confusing when you’ve lived through it.”

Bail leaned back, stunned, as he attempted to process that information. Obi-wan and Ahsoka waited until the Senator decided he could indeed chock it up to Jedi mysteries he did not need to understand. It was a skill most people who had spent much time around Jedi learned well.

“I take it you knew me in your future?” Bail asked.

“Yep.” Ahsoka stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest. “And I have suggestions for that Rebellion you’re building.”

“How did you know I’m…?” Bail was taken aback. He deflated a moment later, sighing. “Right, time travel.”

“Is it quite safe to discuss this over holo?” Obi-wan asked.

“I added ten levels of encryption yesterday because Kanan kept asking me questions about it,” Ahsoka said in a tone that suggested she was internally rolling her eyes at the less technologically adept among them. Meaning him. “Yes, it’s safe.”

“At least Anakin taught you something useful.” Obi-wan retorted without thinking.

“Obi-wan…” The senator looked stricken, taking that comment as proof Obi-wan didn’t know yet.

“I know about Anakin. But I still can’t believe it.” He admitted it out loud for the first time, his heart continuing to protest the impossibility of Anakin’s fall. Ahsoka put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn’t shake it off. “Can you tell us anything that hasn’t been released to the news?”

“From what I can tell, Vader is currently hunting down Jedi, without much luck. Since the Order itself, he’s personally executed two – Master Tiplee, whose death was televised, and one Master Infil'a.” Bail related the news neutrally, but each word sent a new dagger into Obi-wan’s heart. It was important information, information they needed to know. That did not mean Obi-wan wanted yet more proof that his Anakin no longer existed. “He’s _also_ attempting to track down Count Dooku. It seems the Emperor is none too pleased at Dooku’s escape.”

“He wouldn’t be. Dooku knows far too much.” Obi-wan said, stroking his beard.

“Do you know how Dooku managed to escape?” Ahsoka asked.

“It’s not clear. It seems a Separatist meeting was held on Mustafar, one all the leaders attended – Dooku, Grievous, the Trade Federation heads. The Emperor sent Vader there to deal with them, but Dooku must have suspected something.” Bail explained.

“How odd,” Ahsoka looked thoughtful.

“He didn’t survive in your timeline?” Obi-wan asked.

“No, he died a few days before.” She confirmed, but didn’t explain further. He took that to mean Anakin was involved. Killing Dooku would hardly be the worst of his crimes.

“Not to cut this short, but I have a press conference to attend shortly.” Bail said, grimacing. “To announce Alderaan’s… support for the Empire.”

“I called to inform you we have allies in the making in the Mandalorian system, and a potential location for a base.” Obi-wan told him quickly.

“A base?” Bail asked.

“For the rebellion.” Obi-wan explained.

“And you’d like me to contribute materials.” It wasn’t a question.

“That would certainly be helpful.” Obi-wan replied.

“How do you expect me to get anything to you? I’m on thin ice with the Empire.” Bail shook his head slightly, but was clearly considering his options.

“I’ll send you the coordinates for a drop location. If you can sneak away – with Captain Antilles, perhaps? We can talk more then.” Ahsoka said. They made the arrangements for a meeting time and place, and Bail signed off to attend his press conference. The room filled with silence when Bail’s hologram disappeared.

There was a crash from outside, and a small figure fell past the view port into the snow. So that was where Rex and Padawan Dume had gone off to. Ahsoka winced. “I’ll go make sure they didn’t just break my shield generator. Or themselves.”

She left Obi-wan alone with his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole Kanan letting Ahsoka call him that instead of Caleb is pretty much entirely because I kept forgetting Kanan was supposed to be Caleb here and did not want to keep write that. So, nickname. Kanan was also determined not to let this chapter be as sad as it could have been. Thanks, mini-Kanan.
> 
> If you've been reading this for Obitine, Satine isn't really in the last few chapters - but she will be in the next part, and in what I've written so far has pretty much spent the entire time flirting with Obi-wan.


	8. Ahsoka

_Three weeks later_

Ahsoka stood on a rocky, desert planet she had left behind only a few weeks ago, and sixteen years in the future, with a sensor marker planted in the dirt before her. “Welcome to Atollon,” Ahsoka said to her companions. “Don’t pet the spiders.”

“Somehow, I don’t think we’ll be tempted.” Obi-wan stared at the kyrkna testing the boundaries with distaste. “Though if we’re here long enough, I would like to study their reaction to the sensors.” And that was Obi-wan Kenobi: seemingly above-it-all, internally both unfathomably sorrowful and insatiably curious. She took it as a good sign that his curiosity was returning.

"I don't know, I think they're pretty cool looking." Kanan said, because he was a teenage boy. Katooni and Petro were peering out at the giant spider with curiosity and apprehension while clinging to the older boy's arms, which he tolerated with all the indulgence and patience of the father he would grow into.

 "Wait till they try to eat you." Ahsoka said, shooting him a droll look. Granted, the kyrkna wouldn't go after force users who weren't afraid of them, but she thought it better not to tempt fate toward now. Or let the non-force-sensitives with them anywhere near them.

They had left Kalevala yesterday, just before Bo-Katan was set to give her official surrender and request for assistance to the Empire. The speech she gave had been written and rewritten over and over, by Obi-wan and the former Duchess Satine, but with enough input from Bo-Katan that it didn't sound like either of them. Ahsoka thought it had a good chance of working, and keeping Bo-Katan in control of a stable Mandalorian system, even factoring in whatever machinations the Saxons had planned. With Satine alive, though still officially missing, Bo-Katan just might succeed.

Maul had already run to escape the Emperor's reach, by the time anyone remembered to look for him. He would resurface eventually, when they least expected it. But Maul was excellent at disappearing into the depths of the galaxy for years on end, and there was no use wasting resources on him until he made himself known. It didn't sit well with anyone, but what could they do?

The meeting with Bail had gone well, though it was very preliminary. Ahsoka had not been involved in the rebellion quite this early the first time around, and this version of Bail was even further off from accepting that political action would not succeed in resurrecting the fallen republic. The Viceroy of Alderaan was; however, willing to fund intelligence operations and a base for the surviving Jedi to rebuild themselves.

And he delivered on that promise -- the base currently under construction promised to be far more comfortable, and long term than the one she had left behind. The allocation of resources had yet to grow so stringent, or so military as Ahsoka had grown used to over the years. Along with the Mandalorian funds, Ahsoka thought they were off to a decent start. The construction team was composed of people from Alderaan and Kalevala who came highly recommended by the Organas or Kryzes. But for security reasons, they did not know where in the galaxy they were, and were being kept as ignorant of the base's purpose as possible. For what they were being paid, they were for the most part happy to work quickly, keep their mouths shut, and return home as quickly as possible.

Bail hadn't just provided the basic building materials and rations she had requested. He'd sent fresh foods. Mattresses softer than she could remember sleeping on in well, ever. Even a few bottles of Toniray they had set aside for some future celebration. No one on Atollon – not the Jedi, or the former troopers, or the Mandalorians the new Duchess Bo-Katan had sent along, and certainly not Ahsoka – were above less sophisticated brews for ordinary occasions. But Bail was the Viceroy of Alderaan, and his taste was nothing but refined.

Ahsoka knew for a fact Bail was capable of putting together refugee aid packages that held nothing more than the essentials. This was something entirely different. It was starting to sink in that this would be a base meant to last longer than a few months, or a year. A base where children grew up and learned. Ahsoka couldn't remember the last time she'd had something like _home_ to come back to, but that was what Atollon was meant to be. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Despite her early insistence that she was tired of war, of command, Ahsoka had sent many an intelligence operative and rebel squadron to death over the years. At least those people had a choice, one the clone troopers under her command had never had. She could scarcely remember a time when she hadn't been at war. However, tired of it she was, Ahsoka had no other option. She no longer knew if there would be anything left of her if the Empire was overthrown, and there was no longer a war to fight.

Rex bumped his shoulder into her, bringing her back to the present. "Hey Commander, where'd you go?" He asked playfully, but his expression was solemn.

"Just Ahsoka, Rex. Please. And just thinking how much Bail is spoiling us." She smiled halfheartedly, and knew he could tell it was a half-truth.

"What, even Jedi beds don't measure up to these?" He teased, attempting to draw her out. He paused. "Ahsoka."

She let it work. "Are you kidding? Naval bunks were more comfortable than anything in the Temple ever was." Ahsoka knocked back into his arm, meeting his eyes, and gave him a real smile this time. Rex grunted in response, and looked away to hide his own smile.

"Why is my Padawan communing with that spider?" Depa asked as she approached from the construction site behind them. Ahsoka and Rex turned back to the scene before them, and sure enough, Kanan had passed beyond the sensor marker and appeared to be reaching out to one of the kyrkna with the force. Obi-wan had _also_ gone beyond the camp boundaries, and appeared to be attempting to meditate in a circle of the creatures with no regard for his surroundings.

"Won't be tempted by ass." Ahsoka muttered under her breath, earning an amused glance from both her companions. Thankfully, neither Jedi had enraged the kyrkna, which currently felt more curious than hungry. Also thankfully, Katooni and Petro had hung back, as they were now radiating fear. Noticing Depa, the younglings ran to cling to her robes.

"Jedi." Rex scoffed fondly. Though she knew Rex would include her in that easily enough, in this case Ahsoka had to agree. The first time _she_ walked out into that desert alone, she'd gone to visit the Bendu. Who she should probably pay a visit to soon enough, come to think of it. But annoying an embodiment of the balance between light and dark could wait until she knew what to ask.

"I would take offense to that, Captain, but I see your point." Depa smirked and shook her head, before striding off to reclaim her wayward Padawan. Ahsoka found herself with a pair of younglings suddenly attached to her armor.

Despite their prior acquaintance, the two younglings had largely avoided Ahsoka so far, likely due to the rather significant change in her appearance. It seemed they had gotten over their uneasiness. She gently detached their arms, and got down on her knees in front of them. "Alright, what's worrying you?" She asked.

"Obviously the _giant spiders."_ Petro scowled, clearly displeased at his own fear.

Katooni shook her head. "It's everything, Master Tano. What's going to happen to us?"

She was asking that _now?_

Ahsoka supposed now was as good a time as any. The younglings must have been terrified this entire time, and the encounter with the large, scary, carnivorous kyrkna brought that to the surface, to a place where Katooni felt able to express that. For all their virtues, the Jedi had difficulty clearly expressing methods of dealing with negative emotions in a way that could be understand by children.

Or, for that matter, by adult Skywalkers.

So, she told them the truth. "I don't know, in the long run. But for now, you're going to stay here, and learn, and grow. And all of us will do our best to protect you."

"Shouldn't we be, I don't know, doing something? To stop the Empire?" Katooni asked, eyes wide with worry.

"We need to be doing something!" Petro insister, brow furrowed. He felt angry in the force.

"You are doing something." Ahsoka dropped a layer of mental shields, allowing them to feel her honesty. "Just by existing you defy the Empire. If you want to do more, you can make that decision in a few years."

"But I want to do something now!" Petro whined.

"I know you do." She replied, trying to be patient. Petro reminded her of Ezra, when he was younger. And for all Ezra could be brash and reckless, he was a goodhearted boy. Petro would do well to be like him. "But I didn't start fighting until I was a few years older than you are now. And I wasn't ready."

Petro started to protest, but Katooni whispered. "I'm not ready yet, either."

And Petro fell silent.

Ahsoka smiled. "Good. You shouldn't be. If the galaxy were kinder, no one would ever need to be ready for war. That's the galaxy we're fighting for."

Katooni nodded, feeling conflicted, but warm in the force. Petro scowled, but looked contemplative. Rex ruffled Petro's hair as a distraction, giving him something new to scowl about. But Katooni kept looking at Ahsoka, like she was an anchor who could bring her understanding. Ahsoka did not feel up to the task.

But perhaps, in a way, that could be Ahsoka's role in the rebuilding of the Temple, beyond lightsaber lessons that would be easy enough to give. Not being an anchor, but helping the younglings find balance in their emotions, and in the force. It was something to meditate on, she thought, as Depa dragged a sheepish pair of Jedi back inside the camp boundaries by their robes. First, though, she had missions to plan. And more immediately, Ahsoka needed to join Depa in some light mockery of Obi-wan and Kanan. The youngling's laughter, and Rex's chuckling followed them back onto base, where a hot evening meal awaited them. If this was what life on a permanent base had to offer, Ahsoka thought she might just be able to get used to it.

_One standard month later_

If there was one thing Ahsoka wanted to get on top of early, it was discovering what the Empire was doing with all the doonium, and dolovite, and most importantly kyber crystals that were mined, but never turned up in manufacturing increases. The obvious sources for kyber crystals – Illum, Chistophsis, etcetera – had been depleted quickly in her timeline. Gutted, before there even was a Rebel Intelligence to take notice. She made infiltrating those operations a priority.

Recruitment was slow going, this early on. Perpetuating a war that had supposedly just ended appealed to few. And most of those few were former Separatists still engaged in their own regional conflicts. The fact that that struggle had just fundamentally changed had not yet dawned on them. That left Ahsoka with few resources in intelligence for now, and fewer still who were trained in any sort of infiltration. Namely: her.

Obi-wan as well, of course, but he was far too recognizable for Imperial infiltration. They hardly had the resources to just change his face entirely again. And she did not expect this mission would benefit from excessive flirting or accidental havoc. Besides, he was focused on another task, one too important to take his attention from.

So Ahsoka stalked the bars of Nar Shaddaa and places like it, looking for a specific type of semi-legal employment. The Empire was hiding in force, with new mining operations beginning on world after previously protected world. While massive amounts of doonium and dolovite would disappear over the years, funneled off somewhere that was definitely not just star destroyer production, some of those metals were in fact delivered to Imperial shipyards, and there was no way to tell which job was which. Kyber crystals, on the other hand, Ahsoka knew no use for, other than as lightsabers.

But the Empire had bought up too many crystals too many times for Ahsoka to believe Illum was destroyed simply out of spite for the Jedi.

It took her several days, many drinks, and a promise to a smuggler she had no intention of fulfilling to locate the right kind of job.

"I've just landed a contract to haul 'unspecified materials' from Illum." Ahsoka announced as soon as she was back on the still-under construction base. "Rex, you in?"

"Of course, I'm in." He said, not bothering to look up from where he was fending off faux attacks from a pair of giggling initiates. "Care to tell me why we're becoming smugglers all of a sudden?"

"The Empire is looting kyber crystals from the Jedi Temple on Illum. I want to know why, and where they're taking them." Ahsoka explained.

Rex deflected an attempt by Petro to bowl him over. "Alright, kids. Time to go find Master Depa." The younglings stuck out their tongues at him in unison, but obeyed, and ran off giggling. "Shall we?"

 

Ahsoka's ship, which she had named the _Morai_ , had been given a fresh coat of red and white paint. She had saved the shield generator from Kanan's failed installation attempt, and pieced together a scrambler. Though the technology felt more than a decade out of date to her, it worked. There would be more modifications to make in the future, but for now it would do.

Rex had begun growing a beard, and allowed his blonde hair to start growing past his typical buzz cut. It made him look significantly less like his brothers, particularly when disguised as a smuggler. No one would expect to see an armor-less blonde clone, but there was a chance troopers were stationed on Illum. So, Rex was kitted out in a borrowed set of Mandalorian armor, helmet sitting on the dashboard ready to don when necessary. Ahsoka, on the other hand, had shed her armor in favor of unremarkable smuggler's garb: a white bantha-leather jacket and threadbare black trousers, and traded her sabers in for a blaster. Her portrait had not been released on any wanted lists, which was concerning in itself, but meant she was unlikely to be recognized on this mission.

_The Morai_ dropped out of hyperspace at an observation distance from Illum. The once beautiful crystal planet was overrun with so much mining equipment, it was visible from space. Vast scars were already taking shape in the planet's crust. Ahsoka had failed to anticipate the intensity of the crystals' reaction to the mining. The planet _screamed_ and her montrals instantly began to ring.

She grasped both montrals in her hands in a futile attempt to block out the sound, until she remembered to breathe. Ahsoka breathed in and out shakily, focusing on strengthening her shields. Eventually, the sound abated to a manageable, though persistent, buzz. She straightened, and returned her hands to the wheel.

"Alright?" Rex asked, worried, but still mostly calm, understanding her reaction was a Force thing.

"Not really." She rubbed at one of her montrals again. "But it's manageable now. The planet is screaming in pain. It's really loud."

"The crystals can feel pain?" He looked at her in askance.

Ahsoka nodded. "That's how the Sith make their crystals red. They bleed them."

"Every new piece of information on the Emperor makes him even more despicable than I thought possible." No need to convince Ahsoka of that. Rex hung his head, clearly dwelling on his own perceived role in this. Ahsoka stood, and moved to rest her hands on his shoulders, silently trying to convince her oldest friend that none of this, whether his actions under the chip's influence or the continued enslavement or his brothers, was his fault. Rex leaned into her touch as she squeezed his shoulders gently.

The comm blinked with an incoming transmission; the Imperials requesting their codes. Ahsoka transmitted them, and they were cleared for landing. The crystals were even louder on the ground, resonating in her bones. She grit her teeth, and bore it. Rex put on his helmet before they disembarked.

Illum, once the most tranquil planet in the galaxy, visited only occasionally by Jedi for the purpose of earning a single, tiny crystal, bustled with activity. Mining guild foremen shouted at slaves manning machines drilling deep into the ground. Yet more slaves rushed to and fro, carrying cartloads of crystals from previously dug holes. Real smugglers loaded their cargo, joking among themselves, ignoring any orders from the mining guild to move faster. Illum was to be stripped as quickly as possible.

A contingent of stormtroopers stood guard at the docks. This early on, it was likely they were clones. From the way Rex stiffened at the sight of them, he thought so as well. In the plain, white stormtrooper armor, there was no way to tell them apart. Stripping the identity from a people who had built their individuality up from scratch, despite having been genetically engineered to be identical and disposable.

This was Rex's first real glimpse of the Empire. And his first glimpse of his brother's fate. To become the nameless, faceless, disposable beings they had struggled so hard to become more than. If she knew Rex at all, he was blaming himself. For not seeing it sooner. For escaping their fate. Ahsoka so far had no plan ready to help her captain fix any of it. But she would support any strategy he proposed wholeheartedly, so long as it wasn't suicidal.

A Trandoshan foreman ran up to their ship, screaming. "We aren't paying you to stand there. Get moving!" The orange lizard waved his arms furiously. Ahsoka nudged Rex's shoulder. He took a deep breath to collect himself, and started toward a cartload of crystals.

Ahsoka claimed a cart from a Twi'lek slave and pushed it back to her ship. It never got easier to walk past slaves and do nothing to help them. She knew, consciously, that anything she did to help would only make things worse. Even if she had her lightsabers with her, which she didn't, a single former Jedi and former clone captain would just get themselves killed trying to free those imprisoned here. The Anakin she had known would have tried to help them anyways.

_Vader_ was complicit in their enslavement.

Approximately twenty minutes later, the _Morai_ was filled to the brim with kyber crystals. Crystals that needed to be healed and returned to the ground. Yet she was bringing them to the Empire, in an effort to find out what the empire wanted with the Jedi's heritage. Worse, Ahsoka was leaving thousands of slaves to a fate worse than death. And she left anyway.

Ahsoka and Rex sat in silence in the _Morai's_ cockpit, after entering hyperspace. Ahsoka recovering from the planet's screaming – which wasn't easy considering the crystals on board weren't exactly silent either – and Rex grappling with the encounter with Empirical tyranny.

Ahsoka had never stopped being affected in the moment, but she had learned to let those she could not save go quickly after. Even the innocents. Rex had years of experience at war, at letting his brothers in arms who returned from the force go, but his first encounter with stormtroopers? That had to hurt.

Finally, he spoke, so softly her montrals had to strain to pick it up. "What happened to them?"

Not an easy question to answer. "Most of the clone battalions were split up, almost immediately. Some will be mixed in with ordinary troopers. A few were allowed to retire, without pensions. The rest... I don't know."

"How can I help any of them, if I can't even recognize my own brothers?" Rex's voice was thick with grief.

Ahsoka didn't have an answer for him.

 

 

 

Their destination was a star destroyer. Ahsoka and Rex unloaded the cargo quickly, scoping out a way to access the rest of the ship. Guards stood watch at the doors, keeping all the smugglers confined to the hanger. Ahsoka probed their minds gently, trying to feel out whether they would be susceptible to a mind trick. Both were.

Ahsoka faked a smuggler's swagger, and approached the guards, Rex right behind her.

"Miss, you must turn back." One of them said.

"You'll let us pass." She told them, with a wave of her hand, reaching into their minds to coax them into compliance.

"We'll let you pass." The stormtroopers succumbed to the mind trick easily, and waved them through.

The idea was to get information on where the destroyer was taking the crystals and get out. It was far too early to give Palpatine any hint of organized resistance forming, beyond Saw Gerrera's more disreputable efforts. That meant they could not be caught, no matter what. Espionage on a star destroyer transporting materials from Illum? That would get the Emperor's attention.

The information Ahsoka wanted would be in the captain's office. That meant they needed a distraction. And to secure disguises. Stormtrooper armor would work well enough for Rex, though she knew he would hate it. Ahsoka's montrals and lekku, though, presented a problem. They always did when she needed to infiltrate a star destroyer. Which was why she usually preferred to send human operatives. However, there was one option that might work.

"No." Rex said, glaring balefully at the armor she had stolen from a bunk. "Absolutely not."

"How else do you propose we do this?" She asked.

"Not by wearing _that_. _Or_ escorting you as a prisoner." He looked so offended at the prospect, she almost started giggling.

_"Rex._ " She said instead, trying to sound exasperated. "Do you have a better idea?"

Rex didn't. He deflated, grumbling, "Fine."

While Rex changed his armor, Ahsoka began setting up the distraction. Though she still missed Artoo, Ahsoka had gotten used to hacking with only the assistance of a datapad over the years. It was more difficult, but she could get the job done. By the time Rex was ready, she had sent the ship's captain across the star destroyer to dispense discipline to an unfortunate Lieutenant for running an illicit spice operation on ship. From the looks of the man's recent communications, it was even true.

Ahsoka held her hands behind her back, allowing Rex to snap a pair of handcuffs over her wrists. "I can't see anything." He complained as he pretended to lead her down the hall. "And is this _plastoid?_ Are they trying to get these people killed?"

"They're probably not opposed." Ahsoka whispered back. "They can always recruit more."

"This is the worst armor that has ever been made." He insisted. Ahsoka wasn't going to argue that. It was, after all, true.

They found a single guard outside the captain's office. Rex unlocked her handcuffs, freeing Ahsoka to wave a hand in front of the guard's face while reaching into his mind. "Your shift is over. You are going to the canteen to have a drink."

"My shift is over. I am going to the mess hall to have a drink." The stormtrooper repeated. He was, thankfully, one of the new, human recruits, not a clone Rex would be tempted to rescue.

"I was never here." She said, waving again.

"You were never here." The trooper repeated, and walked off, whistling. She snorted. Even modulated, that wasn't regulation.

Rex took up the vacated position. Ahsoka entered the office, which was unlocked, likely a result of the transition from the laxer Republic to stringent Imperial standards. There were two rooms – an outer meeting room, and an inner office.

She made her way to the inner office, and accessed the captain's computer. Her hacking program took a minute to bypass security, and she was in, opening the ship's log.

_Coruscant?_

The destroyer's destination was Coruscant. Well, that was useless. It couldn't be the final destination, but wherever they were bound for beyond that, the destroyer's captain did not have the clearance to know. She copied the information, and began downloading the rest of the captain's files.

Rex commed her before the download could be completed. "Captain incoming."

Ahsoka must have lost track of time, because that seemed improbably fast. She erased all signs of her presence quickly, and hid behind the door in the meeting room. The captain entered seconds later, with the first officer in tow. They went into the inner office without looking around, allowing the door to bang shut behind them. Ahsoka slipped out before it could.

Another change of clothes for Rex and a return of the stolen armor later, and they were back in the hanger bay. The trooper would be disciplined for abandoning his post, but they were free to go. With a small stockpile of kyber crystals in the smuggling compartment.


	9. Obi-wan

The home of the first youngling on Ahsoka's list was quaint, and lived in. The kind of ordinary home people in HoloNet commercials had. Perfect for profitable small-business owners, with space for their many children to play in the back. It was hardly the expected front for smugglers-with-hearts-of-gold.

That Obi-wan was there to convince the family that lived there to give up their youngest child for her own good did not sit well with him. Other than the Cad Bane incident, Obi-wan had never been involved with the process of taking younglings from their families and back to the Temple. He hadn't given it much thought.

But now he stood here, hesitating on one such family's doorstep, and he wondered. How much had taking Anakin from his mother, leaving her in slavery no less, and failing to listen to Anakin's need to save her, contributed to his former Padawan's fall. Most Jedi left their families younger, and in less dire circumstances. Yet another failing Obi-wan could never make up for. This was yet another concern Obi-wan would have to deal with, in one of those meditation sessions he had thus far failed to have. He filed it away with al his other Anakin-related worries.

A gaggle of human children played in the yard, varying in age from toddlers to early teens. The Fardi children, presumably, with perhaps a few friends mixed in who did not share the family's features. One of the toddlers stood out, sitting off to the side, a look of concentration etched onto her face as she stared intently at a tower of rocks tottering improbably before her. She strongly resembled her siblings. Judging from the sheer impossibility of her rock structure, held together only through the use of the force, this was Hedala Fardi. In the force, she shown like a little star. The girl he was here to... rescue. Of sorts.

When Obi-wan volunteered to rescue any force-sensitive children he could, his motivation had not been entirely selfless. He needed to do something, to leave the newly constructed base, and take action against the Empire. To forget, if only for a moment, about Anakin, about the Jedi. To avoid dwelling on how he could have done something, anything different, and prevented it all. Ahsoka had handed him a list of all the Force sensitive children she knew of who had already been born with an all too knowing expression on her face.

Obi-wan selected Hedala Fardi to begin with because of the possibility that her parents could be recruited. That they could therefore visit her if they agreed to send her off. They would not in their exile become the child-stealers the Jedi had been falsely accused of being, they would only accept younglings whose parents willingly let them go. Still, offering both safety for their daughter and the chance to visit her felt more right. But as he stood watching their house, Obi-wan hesitated. How could he ask the Fardis to put their other children at risk?

Ahsoka had noted they would do so anyway. That they were likely already providing illegal aid to beleaguered worlds. It still felt wrong to ask it of them.

Obi-wan glanced back at the yard. Little Hedala was now starting directly at him. Caught by a child, how embarrassing.

Well then. On with it. He crossed the street and knocked on the door.

"My parents aren't home, Mister." A high-pitched child's voice piped up from the yard. It was, of course, Hedala.

"Are they not?" He asked, smiling at the girl. "When will they return, may I ask?"

She shrugged unhelpfully. "You're here for me, anyway, aren't you?"

Obi-wan winced. Force-sensitive children were highly perceptive. And she had said that in precisely the way that would cast him in the most suspicious light should her older siblings overhear. And one had.

The eldest, no older than Ahsoka had been when she first landed on Christophsis, and with just fiery an expression, approached with hands on her hips. "Who do you think you are?"

"My apologies." Obi-wan replied, fighting to keep any hint of amusement out of his voice at how precisely she replicated young Ahsoka. (And that hint of sadness reminding him that the Ahsoka he remembered at that age was _dead_ , no matter how proud he was of the adult version how had found him on Kalevala). "I'm here to speak with your parents regarding a personal matter."

"Our parents will be back soon. So, if you could wait _away_ from my sister...?" She glared at him expectantly.

"By all means." Obi-wan replied, and made to retreat.

Hedala had other plans. "He's not a scary man. He's here to save me from the scary men."

Obi-wan stopped, startled. It got her sister's attention to. "What scary men?"

"The angry one with the scar." Hedala said, matter-of-factly. "The one I see in my dreams. And the ones who follow him, but want to be him."

She had dreams about _Darth Vader?_ Prescient, Jedi dreams? At this age? This was one very perceptive child, and likely in far more immediate danger than he had expected. Though she did not feel unusually strong in the force, the degree of perception she exhibited was rare. Reluctant as Obi-wan was to remove her from the care of her parents so young, this girl could not fall into the hands of the Emperor. Or Ana – _Vader._

"Hedala, we've talked about this." The older girl seemed to have forgotten his presence, as she kneeled to lecture her sister in exasperation. "They're just dreams. Lord Vader isn't after you. No one's after you."

"Makala! Yes, they are!" Hedala insisted, crossing her arms, and sticking out her bottom lip stubbornly.

"I promised they're just nightmares." Makala smoothed her sister's hair.

Obi-wan turned to look at the road, and found a pair of humans rushing up the street, likely in response to the sight of a strange man on their doorstep. He sighed. Just the sight of situation Obi-wan had hoped to avoid. They reached the house soon enough.

"Who do you think you are, bothering our girls?" Mr. Fardi bellowed. An ordinarily calm and reasonable man, from Ahsoka's notes, going against his nature to protect his girls.

"He's here to save me from the angry man." Hedala piped up before Obi-wan could explain.

"Hedala, I know your nightmares are scary, but you can't just talk to strange men." Mrs. Fardi bent to pick up the toddler, who wrapped her arms around her mother's neck without protest.

"I'm afraid they're not just nightmares." Obi-wan said tiredly, and cut to the chase. "I'm Jedi Master Obi-wan Kenobi, and I'm here to warn you that your daughter is in danger. May we discuss this inside?"

After a few minutes of shouting, and the older daughter threatening to call the Imperials on him, Obi-wan was settled in a chair in the Fardis' living room, the parents and Makala settled across from him, with Hedala on her mother's lap. Obi-wan switched on a jamming device in front of them, to prevent any rash decisions to call in the Empire. He had no plans to add 'escaping Thabeska with his life' to his to-do list for the day.

"Have you ever noticed Hedala doing something she should not be able to?" Obi-wan asked, attempting to ease into this and recover ground that had been lost by how the Fardis had met him.

"No." Mr. Fardi responded immediately, defensively. The mother did a good impression of confusion.

Makala looked as though she understood, like she had figured out exactly what Obi-wan wanted from them, and didn't like it one bit. But also like she had realized how much danger her sister was in. "Like how she can levitate rocks?"

Obi-wan nodded. The parents protested, but Hedala cut them off by levitating a mug on the table into her outstretched hand.

"You did that." Mr. Fardi accused, denial written on his face. Obi-wan shook his head.

"Papa, it's over." Makala put a hand on her father's arm to calm him. "We all knew Hedala would be going to the Jedi someday anyway. But now... if they're in hiding, doesn't that give her a better chance? Than trying to hide her away here for her entire life?"

His job had just been made easier by a teenage girl, it seemed. One who was wise beyond her years, and resigned to doing what she hoped would be best for her sister. The comparison to a younger Ahsoka was more apt than Obi-wan had suspected.

"She would be kept safe, yes." Obi-wan replied. "It is entirely your decision, but keep in mind that if Hedala stays here, you will always be looking over your shoulders."

"You want to take our baby away from us? Never." Mrs. Fardi clutched her daughter closer, her voice infused with anger and fear. With the knowledge that if Obi-wan wanted to take Hedala, they would be unable to prevent him. Luckily for them, Obi-wan was not the Empire.

"I've received intelligence that your company does some relief mission off book." Obi-wan said, without acknowledging Mrs. Fardi's objection.

"How do you know about that?" Mrs. Fardi demanded.

"I can't reveal my sources." He replied. Somehow, he didn't think time travel would go over well as an explanation. "I brought it up because that means I can arrange for you to visit your daughter."

Hope dawned on Mr. Fardi's face. Makala actually smiled, though her mother still looked uncertain. They agreed without much further protest.

Obi-wan left Thabeska with a chattering Hedala Fardi in his arms, and a heavy heart.

 

When Obi-wan reached Atollon in his borrowed Mandalorian shuttle, it was late in the evening. Hedala had gone from constantly asking questions – about the ship, where they were going, the Jedi – to passing out about an hour into the ride through hyperspace. Obi-wan had again attempted to meditate, but only managed to reach the lightest meditative state. He hadn't successfully meditated in weeks, and his emotions remained unsteady, unreleased energy running through him, making him take on mission like this one. Perhaps earlier than he should have.

At least Hedala was out of Vader's reach now.

Obi-wan lifted Hedala into his arms, and disembarked. The hanger was empty, the sound of laughter echoing from the mess hall. That was likely where he could find Kix, to deliver Hedala for a medical exam. And grab something to eat, if he could force anything down. Kix would likely insist.

Kix was in fact in the mess hall, talking with Rex over the remains of a meal. If Rex was here, that meant Ahsoka had returned from her mission as well.

Rex noticed Obi-wan standing there, and nodded at him questioningly. Careful not to disturb Hedala, Obi-wan gestured at Kix. When Rex pointed him out, Kix headed over.

"General." He saluted. While Rex was gradually learning to be less formal towards the Jedi, likely due to his already unusual relationship with both his Battalion's unconventional Jedi, Kix had outright refused to call them anything other than General or Commander. "Who's the little one?"

"This is Hedala Fardi." Obi-wan said, as the youngling stirred, blearily blinking open her eyes. "Hedala, this is Kix. He's a medic. He needs to give you a check-up. Is that okay?"

"I like your hair." She said, instead of responding.

"Thank you, Miss Hedala." Kix sheepishly ran a hand over the stubble he continued to keep shaved in zig-zags across his scalp. "How about we go make sure you're healthy? And then get you something to eat."

"Alright." She chirped brightly, and held out her arms to Kix. Obi-wan transferred her to Kix's arms, and she immediately ran a rand over the medic's head, giggling. The clone looked amazed at the ease with which Hedala trusted him. It reminded Obi-wan not unpleasantly of Waxer and Boil and the girl on Ryloth, though the one was dead, and the other lost to an unknown fate under the Empire.

"Are you going to be alright with Kix?" He asked.

She nodded emphatically. Kix turned to leave, then paused.

"Oh, and General? Eat this." Kix stuffed something into Obi-wan's hand before walking off to the medbay, speaking softly to the girl in his arms. A ration bar. How had Obi-wan guessed?

He took an absentminded bite of the bar, chewing thoughtfully. The bland nutrition tasted like nothing, but settled easily in his stomach.

"Ah, there you are, Obi-wan." Depa bustled into the room, her robes swishing around her. "I'd heard you returned. Ahsoka has as well. We three have much to discuss."

Obi-wan swallowed, and raised an eyebrow. "Regarding?"

"The training of the younglings, of course." She said. Ah, yes. The training of a new generation of Jedi that Depa had proposed so blithely, and continued to push for, all while training her Padawan with renewed vigor. Obi-wan supposed this must be her method of coping with the grief they all felt. Not even the most dedicated Jedi was immune to loss.

Obi-wan was not certain Depa's method was any healthier than his own, that she wasn't overlooking the needs of her Padawan in the process. Not if she meant to train a new generation of warriors, rather than rebuilding a new Jedi Order with respect to the flaws of the old. But he didn't express his concerns. Instead, he closed his eyes, pushed away his desire for sleep, and replied. "Yes, I suppose we should."

Ahsoka was deep in meditation in her room when they found her. The Force swirled in intricate, almost playful patterns around the Togruta who insisted she was not a Jedi, but felt brighter and more balanced in the Force than many of his brethren had for many years. She sat cross-legged on her mattress, bolts and tools floating around her head. Many more mechanical parts were scattered across a table, with what looked like a gutted scanner abandoned amidst them. The clutter reminded him of Anakin.

The very thought of his fallen Padawan was still painful. Obi-wan doubted there would be a day when it would not be. He pushed the errant thought away and cleared his throat.

The floating parts fell to the sheets. Ahsoka opened her eyes and smiled mournfully, as though she could see the conflict within him. "Masters." She said in greeting, and indicated that they should take a seat.

"No more of that." Obi-wan said, sitting on the edge of the bed, while Depa moved a toolbox off the room's only chair. "It's just Obi-wan now."

"You'll never be _just_ Obi-wan." She said fondly. "So, what did you want to discuss?"

"We need to find Kit Fisto." Depa asserted. Obi-wan exchanged an uncertain glance with Ahsoka.

"How exactly do you plan to do that?" Ahsoka asked. "Master Yoda told him to hide, and stay hidden."

"I for one think he should stay hidden." Obi-wan interjected. Caring for and training a small number of younglings likely to attract attention on their home planets was one thing, but adding several dozen all at once? Of many different species? Some of them with much more specific needs than the more commonly force-sensitive near-humans, who both they and the Empire would be more likely to locate, without parents voluntarily sending their children away. "It might be for the best that the remaining Jedi not all be in one place."

"We don't know for certain they're still out there, even. If we haven't heart that they were caught by now, they've either found a place to hide, or were caught and disposed of quietly. The Empire likes to pretend it's a benevolent master, and executing younglings doesn’t look good." Ahsoka added.

"That's not enough. There are too few of us to train an entire generation." Depa seemed confused at their disagreement, though she didn't pursue the idea of tracking Kit down any further.

"I'm not a Jedi, but I'm happy to help out where I can." Ahsoka said. "I'm decent enough with younglings."

Depa leveled a glare at her, having likely assumed Ahsoka would provide more assistance than she was planning to give. While Depa had been focused on the future, and Obi-wan dealing with the past, Ahsoka seemed to be managing the past, present, and future all at once. She had dived headfirst into building this Rebellion. Before her recent trip to... somewhere, Ahsoka had spent much of her time holed up in holocalls with Senator Organa, or writing down every potentially useful bit of information she could remember, much of which she refused to share. Understandably, Obi-wan thought. Knowledge of the future, especially a future that would never happen, was a dangerous. Ahsoka reached levels of hyper focus that matched his own. If Rex and Padawan Dume hadn't been grabbing her for meals, and asking for lessons in mechanics and lightsaber techniques, respectively, Obi-wan thought she would have been driving herself into the ground.

"If there are other Jedi out there, I'm not sure I want to put them at risk by seeking them out." Obi-wan said.

"You're being too hesitant, Master Kenobi." Depa argued, a hint of frustration sneaking into her voice. Obi-wan was not sure what she had expected out of this conversation, but whatever it was she wasn't getting it. "What happened to the Negotiator? The man who would walk blindfolded into danger and come out with the clothes off his opponent's back?"

"That man died with the Jedi." Obi-wan confessed. That man died with Anakin, when Obi-wan abandoned his brother and his duty for the sake of a personal vendetta. He couldn't regret saving Satine, not when he knew for certain she would be dead if he had not, but perhaps if he hadn't stayed on Kalevala … No, there was no use dwelling on it further. Ahsoka claimed that decision might have saved the young version of _her_ , but only delayed the rest. That knowledge didn't stop Obi-wan from wondering if he could have done _anything_ to prevent this.

"Like hell he did." Ahsoka hissed, a steely certainty in her eyes instead of the fiery determination Obi-wan still expected to see.

Depa sighed, and buried her face in her hands. "The least the both of you can do is take on our two younglings as Padawans." They blinked at her in surprise. Somehow, neither Obi-wan nor Ahsoka had expected that suggestion.

"How can I take on another Padawan when the only one I've taught fell to the Dark?" Obi-wan sputtered. How could she suggest that? And so soon after _Anakin_.

"How can I take on a Padawan when _I'm not a Jedi_." Ahsoka protested indignantly.

"The Dark Lord of the Sith was grooming my Padawan from the beginning and _I didn't notice_." Despair had seeped into his voice. He sounded defeated to his own ears.

"Sure, right, you were so happy whenever Palpatine stole him off. What choice did you have?" Ahsoka turned on him, unwilling to allow Obi-wan to shift the blame onto himself. He didn't know how to do anything else.

"I had every choice." Obi-wan insisted. Objectively, he knew he hadn't, not really. A simple Jedi Knight didn't say no to the Chancellor of the Republic, and especially not when the Master and Grandmaster of the Order ordered he comply. But nothing about Obi-wan was objective right now.

" _So did Anakin_." Ahsoka stepped up to him, and jabbed at Obi-wan's chest with her pointer finger. It was far more effective now that she was taller than him, though it had typically been Anakin on the receiving end when she was a Padawan. Never Obi-wan.

It was the truth. But it wasn't a truth Obi-wan was ready to accept. So, he deflected. "So do you, now. Or are you just too afraid to do your part for the Jedi, instead of hiding in the shadows?" That, he knew, was very much not true, and from the affronted look on Ahsoka's face combined with the indignant twitching of her lekku, she knew it too.

"I forgave the Jedi for abandoning me _._ " She asserted, head held high and proud. "But that doesn’t mean I am one."

If Ahsoka wasn’t a Jedi, what was she? But – that was a question for another time. Nevertheless, "You're as balanced as any Jedi Master _I've_ ever seen." He said, knowing it to be true.

"I'm _no Jedi_." Ahsoka drew herself up to her full height, eyes flashing, not giving in.

"I _can't do this alone!_ " Obi-wan shouted, the desperate admission torn out of his throat. Ahsoka was taken aback, her eyes widened in shock. She had never truly seen him lose his temper, his outward control. The most she would be used to was milk annoyance. This was certainly not that. Obi-wan felt instantly ashamed. What right did he have to be weak? After everything and everyone he had failed.

Ahsoka softened. "You don't have to." His Grand Padawan hugged him, squeezing tightly before stepping back. She smiled slightly, sadly, letting him know she would be there, would help whenever and however she could.

Obi-wan felt relieved, and guilty for feeling that relief at the same time. "Neither do you." He said, finally. It was the least he could offer. He, her Grandmaster, who should have been there when her master failed her. For all that she was only five or so years younger than Obi-wan now, Ahsoka would always be like a second Padawan to him. "But I'm not taking a Padawan."

"What am I, chopped nerf?" Ahsoka and Obi-wan spun in unison to face Depa, who was scowling at them. "I have a suggestion if the two of you don't mind."

"By all means." Obi-wan gestured at her to go on.

"I used to laugh when Mace complained about your lineage." Depa laughed without real amusement. "You two, Dooku, Skywalker. What it is about Master Yoda's teachings that makes you all so dramatic?"

"As someone who has met _your_ Padawan as an adult, I can say with absolute certainty it's not just us." Ahsoka deadpanned. Obi-wan's heart lifted slightly, and he felt his lips twitch with a hint of a smile.

Ahsoka ignored Ahsoka's comment and continued.  "The both of you have shot down every idea I've had. So. Tell me. What, exactly, are your issues with rebuilding the Jedi Order? So, we can make it right for a new time."

Both of them stared at her, uncomprehending. "Honestly." Depa scoffed. "Did you think I wanted to resurrect the Order, without regard for the flaws that made our downfall possible? Please, give me more credit than that."

Despite his recently increasing awareness of structural flaws within the Jedi Order, Obi-wan was not sure how to articulate those problems – much less what he would propose as a solution. Ahsoka, it seemed, had no such compunction.

"Most of that seems like something you can figure out over time. Like how to make sure the Jedi don't get dragged into leading a war again, or how to reach a wider population of vulnerable people. Even before the war, there were problems there." Ahsoka began, absentmindedly picking at the sheets with her right hand.  "If there's anything I've learned in my years of travel, it's that the Jedi aren't very well understood, where they aren't seen as nothing more than a myth."

"So, you're saying you want to make us more... public?" Depa asked, tilting her head quizzically.

"Maybe?" Ahsoka shrugged. "We're hardly in a position to deal with something like that now, but it might be something to think about. For the future."

Depa nodded, in a precise imitation of her old master. "What else?"

"Well, if we're going to keep bringing in younglings, there won't be enough of us for one Padawan per Master. Perhaps, we should teach them more...collectively." Obi-wan said. "For now, at least, given our limited resources."

"Is this how you're planning to get out of taking on a Padawan?" Depa asked, amused. "But you might have point. If there's only the three of us to manage it."

"Are you sure you want me teaching your future Jedi?" Ahsoka asked uncertainly. Ah, so that was the source of her uneasiness. She had been detached from the Order for so long, and no longer considered herself one of them. It was only natural she might be concerned for her welcome.

"I can't think of anyone I would trust more." Obi-wan said. Whether she claimed an affiliation or not, Ahsoka had grown into a true Jedi.

Ahsoka's responding grin was brilliant.

"Well," Depa said, standing and brushing off the back of her robes. Her hands came away with grease smears, and she grimaced. "Now that that's settled, I'm off to bed. We can work out the details later."

She strode out the door, leaving Obi-wan alone with Ahsoka.

"Force, I'm going to end up corralling ten Ezra's, aren't I?" Ahsoka flopped backwards onto her bed, stretching her arms over her head.

Ahsoka did not often speak of those she had known in the future, though he knew she worried for their fates. "Tell me about him?" Obi-wan asked. So, she did.

When Obi-wan returned to his room, he slipped successfully into meditation within a few minutes, for the first time in a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! This was probably the hardest chapter to write, especially that last conversation. In my first draft, Depa was too pushy, Obi-wan too much of a pushover, and I had Ahsoka saying some things that were really, really out of character. Hopefully I've fixed that now. 
> 
> When I was drafting this, I tried to think of things Obi-wan would be able to handle/would not involve him getting himself killed this soon after Order 66/Anakin's fall and thought: saving kids! That should help him deal with his guilty conscience, generally be less risky (though it's Obi-wan so... that's relative), and Ahsoka might be able to remember some names. Hedala's the only canon force sensitive kid I could think of who would be alive at this point. She's not going to be a major part of this fic, though she'll probably pop up in the background on occasion. 
> 
> Next chapter, Padmé gets some (not so) surprising news
> 
> If you haven't seen Solo yet, it's a really fun movie! I really enjoyed it (and now want to bring Enfys Nest into a later part of this fic somehow, we'll see)


	10. Padmé

_One standard month later_

When Padmé threw up for the third morning in a row, she realized she might have a problem. One simple test later, and she knew she had a problem. She was pregnant.

Those last few times with Anakin, when one or the other of them was distraught, over Ahsoka, or over the Republic, they hadn't used protection. Padmé realized this only belatedly – two months late, in fact. She had missed her period last month, and assumed it was stress. How stupid of her.

Where could Padmé go that she wouldn't be immediately recognized, and turned in, but wouldn't be expected? The Empire would surely still be watching Alderaanian spaceports for suspicious activity, and bail himself where they could get to him. Naboo, and her family there, were out for the same reasons. The last thing Padmé needed, especially knowing she was pregnant, was to be delivered back to Coruscant, to the Emperor and her husband, to be nothing more than a pretty decoration. Assuming the Emperor didn't have her executed.

No matter how much her heart ached for her husband, she could not return. Padmé could not believe – did not want to believe – that her Ani was gone. Or worse, had never existed. She wanted to believe she could bring him back. To her, to this child. But Palpatine? The _Emperor?_ The Sith Lord who had hidden his true identity from the galaxy for decades? Convinced Anakin that tyranny was the path to peace? Even if she could bring her Anakin back, Palpatine would only use her against him.

No, Padmé could not allow herself to fall into the hands of the Emperor.

In the past two months, she had had no luck in locating Obi-wan, or any other Jedi. And she had stayed out of contact with Bail, or any other senators likely to support an opposition to the Empire. For their own safety.

Unfortunately, the majority of those willing to fight against imperial tyranny, such as Cham Syndulla's cell on Ryloth, were exclusively focused on their home systems, or willing to use deplorable tactics to achieve their goals. Saw Gererra, Ahsoka's Onderanian ally, had already resorted to planetary devastation to prevent the Empire from obtaining sentient and natural resources. And yet still more Separatist planets sought his assistance in escaping the ravening maw of the Empire.

If it weren't for the precious few willing to join the cause of a galaxy-wide resistance, Padmé would be close to losing her faith in people. Those contacts would prove a valuable resource in the years ahead.

Padmé could not return to Pantora – the Imperial presence was too strong. Pantora had initially refused to cooperate with the Empire. That was, until Chairman Papanoida was accused of embezzlement, carted off to an unidentified prison, and replaced by an Imperial stooge of a governor. Or so the Empire's propaganda claimed.

Riyo was included in those accusations. If the former Senator of Pantora had not chosen to accompany Padmé on her quest, she would have shared in her ally's fate. Padmé was grateful for the companionship of the bright, young woman, but saddened by yet more proof of the fall of democracy. Proof that those who stood against the Empire would be trodden into dust.

Padmé refused to believe that was the only possible future.

She could not risk being recognized at a medical facility, could not chance any record of her pregnancy reaching the eyes of the Emperor.

The only real option then, was Chandrilla. Whlie Padmé considered Mon Mothma more of an acquaintance than a friend, she was trustworthy. Chandrilla's immediate cooperation with the Empire, and lack of association with any wanted fugitives, had earned it a negligible Imperial presence, for the time being.

That was liable to change, eventually. Chandrillan culture permitted no more tolerance for injustice than Alderaanian, or Nabooian did. But right now, paying a visit to Mon Mothma represented her best chance at flying under the radar.

Padmé pushed a hair that had fallen free of her loose bun out of her face, and sighed. While she and Ani had planned to wait until after the war, Padmé had always longed for a child. Now the idea of bringing a child into the galaxy filled her with horror, with only the slightest hint of joy buried deep within. How could she bring a child into an Imperial galaxy?

But Padmé wanted the child anyway.

She stood, and set her clothes to rights before exiting the fresher. Padmé found Riyo in the cockpit, scrolling through the news on her datapad. "I need to go to Chandrilla." She declared.

"Any particular reason?" Riyo asked, already punching in the coordinates. They were currently floating in real space, a few hundred miles out from an uninhabitable moon of a sparsely populated planet, the name of which slipped Padmé's mind. They had run out of ideas for unoccupied planets to check for signs of Obi-wan a few days ago. Riyo had been growing restless, and was likely looking forward to civilization.

"I'm pregnant." She replied, her voice much lighter than she felt.

"Oh." Riyo's hands paused on the keyboard. "Vader's I take it?"

Padmé nodded, not trusting her voice. She buried her face in her hands.

"Why Chandrilla?" Riyo asked, resuming the process of setting their jump coordinates. It was curiosity, not questioning her decision."

"There's someone I can trust there to keep my medical data off the record." Padmé mumbled, without looking up.

"Mon? Definitely." Of course, Riyo would know Mon. Although Riyo had joined the Senate as a newcomer to Galactic politics only two years earlier, and not yet made much of an impression on its leaders, Padmé had come to realize just how much the younger woman had ingratiated herself with her fellow up-and-coming senators. In a just galaxy, Riyo would be a rising star in the Republic.

In this one, she was a fugitive from the Empire.

 

The trip to Chandrilla was not a long one, only a few hours. A few hours that felt like decades. When they emerged from hyperspace, Padmé called Mon. Luckily, the call went through on the first try, and a holo of the Chandrillan senator appeared.

"How may I -- Padmé !" Mon's eyes widened, emphasizing the deceptive innocence of her pixie-like features.

"Hello, Mon." Padmé offered her former colleague a wan smile. "I need a favor."

"Anything." Mon said, without hesitation. There was a bit of hero worship remaining in Mon's posture, though far less than there had been when the Chandrillan woman first joined the Senate. Padmé did not feel the admiration was deserved. Nevertheless, Mon had hardened significantly in the two months since the fall of the Republic. Her bearing was more confident, and more reserved, though no less honorable.

"I need access to the planet." Padmé began. Mon began nodding before she finished speaking. "And an off-the-books doctor's appointment."

"Doctor's appointment? Are you alright?" Mon asked worriedly.

"Yes, I'm fine." She hoped. "Can I tell you more on the ground?"

"Of course. If you send me your transponder code, I'll ensure you pass customs unquestioned." Mon replied. Padmé sent the codes, and signed off. After a brief wait, they were signaled to bypass the traffic, and given a birth in the Hana City general spaceport.

Mon Mothma was waiting on the platform when they disembarked. Padmé had selected a simple disguise for this endeavor – retaining the same, loose-fitting, nondescript clothes she had been wearing that morning, and forgoing any make-up. To most, Padmé would be unrecognizable. Mon held herself stiffly, but relaxed at the sight of Padmé . She strode forward to clasp Padmé's hands in her own.

"How urgent is the medical issue?" Mon asked, going straight to business.

"Not too urgent, but as soon as possible would be preferred." Padmé replied. As she scanned the bustling spaceport for potential threats, one hand came to rest on her blaster, the other on her stomach. Mon's eyes followed the movement and widened.

"I see." She said. "In that case, I've asked a friend to see you in her office after hours. In the meantime, why don't the two of you join me for dinner?"

Padmé exchanged a glance with Riyo for confirmation. "We'd be delighted." She said.

 

"Twins?" Padmé exclaimed.

Doctor Kalorian nodded, and zoomed in on the scan of Padmé 's uterus to give her a closer look. The doctor was a middle-aged human woman with a face lined by laughter. "Yes, if you look here, there are two embryos." She pointed at the image. To Padmé , all her two – _two –_ soon-to-be babies looked like was a blob. She would have to take the doctor's word for it.

"It's far too early to tell you more, but you're young, healthy, and the early stages of your pregnancy are progressing well. Congratulations, Senator Amidala." Doctor Kaorian continued.

Padmé narrowed her eyes in suspicion. The doctor had not previously acknowledged that she recognized her. Why now? "It's just Padmé Naberrie."

"You're much more to the galaxy than that." Well, that was cryptic. The doctor tilted her head, studying Padmé . "I assume you won't be staying on Chandrilla?"

Padmé shook her head. "I can't."

"I thought not. Well, I can't promise you'll carry them to term, but the chances for a woman of your age and health are good. There are specific health concerns for carrying twins, however." The doctor began printing off sheets of flimsy. "I'll prescribe you some prenatal vitamins, and give you reading material on the other things you need to know. Follow them closely, and get regular checkups, and I expect you'll be welcoming your twins in six to seven months."

Padmé left with a heavy stack of flimsy, and an unreasonably large stock of vitamins.

A call from bail was waiting for Padmé when she returned to Mon's apartment. It was comfortably furnished, and clearly lived in, though the upholstery was rather more uniformly white than Padmé would have been comfortable with in her own home. Yet there was not a single stain that she could see. Mon and Bail were chatting amiably about – a base? Had they found enough recruits and become organized enough for a base so quickly?

Bail noticed her before Mon did. "Padmé ! I'm so glad to see you're alright. And may I offer my congratulations?"

"Thank you." Padmé replied, taking a seat in the room's second armchair, and smiling softly. For all her concerns for their safety, Padmé couldn't help but feel excited to meet her children. But back to business. "Did I hear you mentioning a base?"

"Yes." Bail's brow furrowed in distaste for the militancy a base implied. No one wanted a war. And Padmé did not think it would come to open war immediately. The Rebellion would lose, and lose quickly, if it did. But she doubted a peaceful solution, obtained through applying the tenants of democracy in a figurehead senate, would have the affect Bail still believed it could. There were few beings left in the galaxy with more experience with the Sith than Padmé . Palpatine would not bow to reason.

If he had been a man who would listen to reason, Padmé would not fled Coruscant. There would be no Empire, the Jedi would sstill be alive, the Clone Wars would not have been so universally devastating.

Padmé would still have Anakin, would not be facing the prospect of raising her children alone.

Darth Vader would not exist.

Bail was still speaking, she realized. "It would seem that Obi-wan convinced some Mandalorian leaders to aid -- the Rebellion. In a rather more aggressive manner than I would prefer."

Padmé gasped. "Obi-wan? You found him? Mandalore – so he rescued Satine?" All that searching, and Obi-wan had turned up on his own while she was out of contact. She had wondered what became of Obi-wan and Satine both, after the announcement came from Mandalore that the new Duchess Bo-Katan Kryze would join the Empire.

"Oh. Well, yes. Or rather, he contacted me, when he couldn't get through to you." Bail explained. Padmé had not brought anything with her save an emergency stash of credits and the clothes on her back. Not her comms, not a spare change of clothes. Nothing to rouse suspicion, and nothing traceable. She had only half made up her mind to go until she saw the footage of the temple. She knew already she had been on a wild bantha chase, but this new hammered that home. "After a few other Jedi survivors found him."

Other survivors? This was the best news Padmé had heard in months. "I want to go to this base." She decided aloud.

"Are you certain? In your condition?" Bail's voice was threaded with concern.

Padmé bristled. "How exactly does my _condition_ influence my mind? I'm not proposing haeding into battle about to give birth!"

"I think that's an excellent idea." Mon interjected. "The rebels could use a politician's knowledge. As a moderating influence of sorts."

Bail snorted. "Since when is Padmé a moderating influence?"

"I'm right here, you know." Padmé put her hands on her hips, scowling.

"I'm aware." Bail said dryly. "Fine, if you're sure – Mon knows the coordinates. I assume you can get there on you own?"

"I can if Riyo takes me." She replied, assuming Mon had caught Bail up on her recent activities.

"I won't just take you. I'm going with you." Padmé jumped in her seat. She turned to find the Pantoran woman standing behind her, arms crossed and smirking. "Sounds like the place to be."

Padmé smiled. "Well, that's settled then."

"I suppose it is." Bail sighed. "But Padmé -- be careful."

"I always am." She lied. Bail didn't buy it for a second. He rolled his eyes and hung up on her.

 

The base in question was located on a rocky desert planet called Atollon. It would have been sparsely beautiful, Padmé thought, if it weren't for the terrifying giant spiders crawling periodically across its surface. Padmé was grateful the sensor markers seemed to repel them.

"Regretting your decision to come yet?" Padmé asked.

"Only slightly." Riyo looked slightly green at the sight of the spiders.

"They can't get in, no need to worry." A human female Jedi, clad in the traditional robes, said as she approached. A boy who carried a lightsaber at his belt, but was dressed like a spacer, followed in her footsteps. "Welcome to Atollon, Senator Amidala, Senator Chuchi."

"Thank you, Master...?" Padmé returned her greeting.

"Depa Bilaba. This is my Padawan, Caleb Dume." The Jedi Master replied.

"I'm pleased to meet you both. Where might I find Obi-wan?" Padmé asked.

"Out that way, going over some exercises with the younglings." Master Bilaba gestured vaguely into the desert. "My Padawan can take you there if you would like."

Younglings? Padmé swallowed her apprehension at the idea of going past the base's boundaries. She could simply delay her reunion with Obi-wan, bu tPadmé was not about to be intimidated by a few measly spiders. Even if they were larger than her. She had face much worse. "Please."

"Sure." Padawan Dume said, before running off to grab a sensor marker from a pile. He jogged back, lugging the heavy marker along as best he could.

"I think I'll stay here if you don't mind." Riyo said. She didn't wait for an answer before running into the base.

"By all means." Padmé chuckled.

She followed Padawan Dume out into the wilds of Atollon. The spiders kept a wide berth around them, hissing periodically at the sensor. The boy was, she found out quickly, highly inquisitive. It reminded Padmé of Ahsoka, dampening any excitement she might have felt for her impending reunion with Obi-wan. Padmé was certain her young friend's framing had been contrived by Emperor Palpatine to trigger Ani's fall. It was all too convenient.

If so, that plot, and who knew how many others, had worked all too well.

At first the boy's questions were innocuous. Or would have been, if they didn't touch on issues that were personally sensitive. Why had she decided to leave Coruscant? What had she been doing since? Why? Padmé answered them diplomatically, leaving out details she preferred not to share.

But then Padawan Dume blurted out. "Were you really having an affair with Master Skywalker?" He instantly blushed, ashamed and guilty at the prying question. "Sorry, I ask too many questions."

Well. There was no point in keeping _that_ a secret now. The answer would be obvious soon enough if she stayed. "Not having an affair. We were married."

The boy's jaw dropped. " _Married?_ To a _Jedi?_ "

"Obviously not anymore." She ignored the way her heart fell at the reminder. "But yes. We love – _loved_ each other very much." While Padmé did not believe that love was in the past, that Anakin was truly lost forever, she had to act as though she believed it. Around Jedi not named Obi-wan in particular.

"He was hardly the only Jedi ever to fall in love." She laughed at the boy's dumbstruck expression. "You should ask Master Obi-wan about _Satine_ sometime."

"Master Obi-wan? And Lady Satine? No way!" He shook his head violently, shaggy hair growing out from a Padawan cut falling into his face. "He wouldn't."

"Oh, he very much did." She teased. The things Satine had told her over Martinis. "They didn't _stay_ together, of course. I've never met anyone more dutybound than those two."

"Huh." Padawan Dume stared down at his feet contemplatively. He stayed silent for the rest of the walk.

They rounded a last ridge, and Padmé saw what lookd like a make-shift training ground set up in the valley beyond. Two younglings faced off against a Togruta woman wielding two white lightsabers. Padmé smiled as she spotted Obi-wan sitting off to the side, taking a sip from a canteen. He wiped his mouth, and shouted something undoubtably snarky at the other Jedi, who turned and used her lightsabers to make a rude gesture back at him.

Wait. A Togruta Jedi. With dual lightsabers. Padmé might not know all the Jedi, or all their fighting styles, but she did know wielding two lightsabers was rare. And she had never heard of anyone matching this Jedi's description doing so, other than Ahsoka. But Ahsoka's lightsabers were green, and this Jedi was much too old.

And Ahsoka was dead.

But that camaraderie with Obi-wan.

When she turned in their direction, Padmé swore she saw markings that matched Ahsoka's.

"Master Obi-wan!" Padawan Dume shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound uncessarily.

"Kanan?" Obi-wan looked up in surprise. He was perfectly audible in only a slightly raised voice. "Drat. Caleb. She's rubbing off on me, I swear. What did you need?"

Padmé realized she must not be visible yet, and stepped into view as Padawan Dume replied. "There's someone here to see you."

She had never seen Obi-wan so shocked as he was now. He mouthed something Padmé thought might be her name. The other Jedi spun in her direction, almost allowing one of the younglings to land a hit on her in the process. When they realized an unexpected guest was watching, they switched off their lightsabers and backed off. The Jedi – who really did look far to similar to Ahsoka's – lightsabers flickered off. She started forward, as though she would start running towards Padmé, but stopped when Obi-wan held out an arm, and said something quietly.

Padmé approached the group warily instead. As she got closer, she studied the female Jedi's features. She very much resembled Ahsoka, but years older. Ahsoka hadn't had an older sister who was also a Jedi, had she?

"Padmé! I'm so glad you're alive. Err, alright, I mean." The Togruta said, excitedly. Her voice was deeper, and more mature than Ahsoka's, but sounded oddly similar all the same. "And here."

"Like Ahsoka said, we both are." Obi-wan added, all-too-casually naming his companion a dead woman.

"That's impossible." Padmé insisted, despite her own suspicions of the Togruta Jedi's identity.

"Strange as it sounds, this is indeed Ahsoka." Obi-wan confirmed.

"Time Travel." The woman who was too old, and too tall to be Ahsoka shrugged in exactly the way Padmé would have expected of her late friend.

Padmé sighed and rubbed at her forehead with the heel of her hand. When had the ways of the Force ever been logical? Could she really say this was any stranger than the time Anakin had premonitions of his mother's death? Or the Chancellor of the Republic, her old mentor, the seemingly kind and peace-seeking Sheev Palpatine, turning out to be the Sith Lord manipulating the galaxy form the shadows all along? Than the man she loved murdering innocents?

Well, yes, it was absolutely stranger. Seeing warnings of a possible future was not the same as physically travelling through time. There had been hints of Palpatine's identity, hints they all had missed, much as Padmé hated to admit it.

And it wasn't the first time Anakin slaughtered children out of a false sense of justice.

Time travel did not explain how a woman who was dead in the present had traveled _backwards_ in time, but Padmé found she believed it. Never in her experience had Obi-wan or Ahsoka been anything but trustworthy. There were an uncomfortable number of circumstances in which Padmé had gone to one of the two for help, rather than Anakin, even before Vader. She could be assured they would do their best to help without putting others at risk for her sake alone. Anakin had long ago proven he was incapable of that level of self-sacrifice.

When the Jedi who was apparently an older version of Ahsoka hugged her, Padmé hugged her back.

"You have questions," Ahsoka said as she released her.

"I have questions." Padmé confimed.

"All right, then. Practice is over, kids." Ahsoka turned to the younglings, who had begun arguing over something to do with their lightsabers from the looks of it.

The human boy looked ready to protest, but the Tholothian girl elbowed him in the stomach before he could. She bowed. A beat later, the boy copied her.

"Take them back, will you Kanan?" Ahsoka said to Padawan Dume. So that was what Obi-wan had meant when he corrected himself. His accidental adoption of Ahsoka's nickname for the boy.

"Alright, Master Ahsoka." Padawan Dume saluted her cheekily.

"For the last time, it's just Ahsoka." Ahsoka rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. Though this Ahsoka was calmer, a fully fledged Jedi, it was obvious she had not fundamentally changed. That was a relief.

"Yes, Master Ahsoka." The boy's grin grew wider.

" _Kanan_."

" _Master Ahsoka."_

_"Kanan."_

"Just let the boy go, Ahsoka." Obi-wan said in a long-suffering tone that didn't fool anyone who had ever seen him interact with Anakin Skywalker. Padmé really needed to stop torturing herself with thoughts of her lost – for now at least – husband.

"Fine." They said simultaneously, mock pouting. Ahsoka patted Obi-wan's shoulder affectionately. As the three youths began the walk back, Padawan Dume ended up with a chattering youngling clinging to each arm. He tolerated it with aplomb.

"Make sure Rex doesn't take them flying without me!" Ahsoka shouted at their retreating backs. Padawan Dume shook off one of the younglings to wave in acknowledgement without looking back. His arm was immediately reclaimed.

"You're letting them fly?" Padmé asked, surprised.

"Against my advice." Obi-wan said dryly. "She is."

"I'm not letting them fly _alone_." Ahsoka protested, offended. "Who do you take me for? Anakin?"

Padmé looked down at the reminder of her husband. While she was by no means force sensitive, she could practically feel the misery emanating from Obi-wan. Anakin's old Master was as heart-broken as she was – likely more. She had lost her husband, her life's work, a few friends. Obi-wan had lost _everything_. The few exceptions – this older Ahsoka, Satine, his own life – likely seemed like little compensation at all. Not with how little Padmé had always gotten the impression Obi-wan cared about himself. The man had been a walking tragedy long before the Fall of the Republic.

It surprised Padmé that the man was allowing himself the small comfort of Ahsoka's company, and apparently attempting to build new relationships with new students. That he was joking at all. That small fact gave Padmé the tiniest sliver of hope for the future. If Obi-wan could even begin to recover form everything the galaxy – that Palpatine, that _Anakin_ \-- had thrown at him, perhaps they had a chance to fix things.

"Sorry." Ahsoka cleared her throat and looked down at her own hands, ashamed at her slip. Padmé understood. She didn't know how long Ahsoka had known of Anakin's fall, of Vader, but she was clearly still fond of her old Master, after however many years it had been. Padmé had witnessed the slaughter at the temple, yet she often found herself wishing she could talk to Anakin about the little things. Missing how they had spent hours in bed after each reunion, just talking. About everything. Unable to give up hope that someday, somehow, she would have _her_ Ani back.

Padmé knew the Jedi thought of falling to the dark side differently. That they believed one who fell, died. If Ahsoka truly believed that, if she believed Anakin truly gone, Padmé could see how Ahsoka might keep the memory of Anakin separate from the murderous Sith that was Vader. Ahsoka would not know that Anakin had always had that capacity within him, that Padmé had failed him by never speaking up. Would not understand that Anakin and Darth Vader were one and the same. Padmé could understand, but that did not mean it didn't still hurt.

She pulled herself together.

"Anyway." Padmé clapped her hands to dispel the tension. "I think you owe me an explanation."

She got one. A very long, implausible explanation. One that Padmé found herself believing anyway. She had never put too much thought into the ways of the force, and did not expect that to change. But she could accept that the force was full of things more bizarre than her wildest imaginings. Especially when the proof of it was right before her eyes.  Padmé thought she would have accepted resurrection, it if meant she had Ahsoka back. Ahsoka who had known of her relationship with Anakin, and never said anything. Who listened to her, who compromised, who adjusted her beliefs and tactics when proven wrong. This Ahsoka was in many ways different from the one Padmé had lost only a few short months earlier, and in many ways the same.

As Padmé laughed at one of Obi-wan's many retorts, she felt more lighthearted than she could remember in a long time. With the three of them at its helm, perhaps this nascent Rebellion stood a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist making Padmé see an actual doctor, even though it meant making up a random OC who will never show up again. Few things in fiction irritate me, a biomedical engineer, more than characters with access to decent healthcare not using it (I don't care if it might expose your secret marriage Padmé go get a goddamn ultrasound).
> 
> Next week is the epilogue to part 1! Then I'll be posting two fics based (very loosely) on Dark Disciple and Ahsoka the novel.


	11. Epilogue

_Seven months later_

Obi-wan and Ahsoka had been waiting outside Padmé's birthing chamber for eight hours when Kix finally permitted them inside to meet Padmé's children. Padmé had kicked them out early on in her labor, on account of their "hovering" being "distracting". They left without protest. Obi-wan was sure even Master Yoda had not been able to keep _entirely_ calm when attending a birth. Obi-wan had been present at several, before the war. Once, he had even had to assist a fifteen-year-old Anakin in delivering one.

He had tried to ask how his then-Padawan had gained that skill. When Anakin seemed uncomfortable with explaining, Obi-wan had backed off, tried to give Anakin his space, never pushed. It was what he would have wanted to do – have the chance to process something for himself, then open up when ready. Only Anakin never had. When Padmé told him, years too late, about Anakin's reaction to his mother's death...

Obi-wan had made so many mistakes with Anakin that he could never make up for. As his Jedi Master, and as his friend. He accepted that, now. Accepted that Anakin was gone, however much Padmé believed he was in Vader, somewhere. Perhaps Obi-wan could have stopped all of this if he had done something different, but he had not. Anakin fell, and Vader rose with the Empire.

He would never stop wishing he had Anakin back, like he was missing half his heart. Yet focusing on that would tie Obi-wan too strongly to the past, do no one any good in the present. And so he had chosen to relinquish that hope, and put his mind to work on what he could change. Depa's new Jedi Order, Ahsoka and Padmé's Rebellion – Obi-wan had a role to play in both. He could invest his tattered hopes in the future, and learn from the past rather than living in it. So long as he kept working on letting Anakin go.

Despite his previous experiences with childbirth, Obi-wan had never ceased to view the concept as simultaneously exciting and horrifying. It certainly did not help that thre was a personal investment, on Obi-wan's part, in the outcome. He very much wanted to meet Anakin's children. And Padmé herself was a dear friend. He struggled to surrender his anxiety to the force.

Ahsoka was no better. It didn't take her very long to give up on waiting in silent contemplation and pull out a datapad. Obi-wan lasted a few minutes longer before capitulating to his unsettled feelings and doing the same. He had the feeling neither of them got much work done. Obi-wan certainly hadn't, catching himself reading the same paragraph over and over multiple times. He didn't bother sending out any reports or requests for information -- it would all have to be checked over again later anyway.

At some point, Depa sent Petro and Katooni along with refreshments. It was a welcome, though brief, distraction as the younglings needed to return to their lessons, or creche duty for their slowly expanding set of younglings. Neither Obi-wan nor Ahsoka did more than absentmindedly pick at the food.

They gave up any pretense of working when a baby's cries rang out, followed a few minutes later by the second's. The force cried out in joy at each birth, brightening ever so briefly to a semblance of its former glory.

And finally, Kix called them in.

Kix had never delivered a baby before. There wasn't much use for that particular skill in an army composed entirely of male clones. But ever since Padmé had refused to head back to civilization to deliver her twins, the medic had been reading up on every aspect of the process. Padmé sat through check-up after check-up with bemused tolerance as Kix double and triple checked that she and her babies were healthy. With the assistance of Doc, he had just brought Padmé safely through a difficult labor. She was now relaxing comfortably, holding baby Luke for the first time, while Kix and Doc ensured Leia was healthy. Leia was also still wailing, while Luke seemed to have settled down.

"They're beautiful." Ahsoka said in awe. She meant their presence in the force, like the twin suns of Tatooine. So much like Anakin's had been, as a child. Before everything.

"They are. Congratulations." Obi-wan knew his smile was meagre, but it was there, and it was honest. It was more than he could summon most days.

"Thank you. I just wish.." Padmé's smile faltered as she trailed off.

"Anakin were here?" Obi-wan asked softly. "Me too."

"There's still good in him, I know it." Padmé said firmly, but softly, and not for the first time, as she gazed down at the boy cradled in her arms.

"Padmé..." Obi-wan and Ahsoka sighed simultaneously. No matter how hard either of them tried, Padmé would not be convinced that anything left of Anakin in Vader would not be worth the cost. Like Obi-wan, she blamed herself for his fall. He hoped Padmé would learn to move on. Before she put underserving faith in a monster, and paid the price for it.

"Would you like to hold them?" Padmé asked brightly. It was a deflection, but the smile on her exhausted face made him allow it. She held Luke out to Ahsoka. Obi-wan took Leia form Kix, who had finished running whatever tests needed to be run on newborns.

"I'll just give you a moment, then." Kix grinned. "Holler if you need anything." He pulled his gloves off and tossed them in the trash. Doc attempted to object, but Kix caught him by his mechancial elbow and pushed the protesting droid out the door. Kix gave them a jaunty wave, and then he was gone.

Obi-wan hardly noticed. Because oh – the newborn girl in his arms was blindingly beautiful up close. Not in looks, with her typical scrunched up newborn features, but in the force. Obi-wan was nearly overwhelmed by the wave of love he felt looking at her.

Leia stopped crying the moment she settled into his arms. She seemed to be looking up at him, focused on his face. But that was impossible – wasn't it? Then again, this was Anakin's daughter. Obi-wan would have to learn not to put anything past her.

Ahsoka was similarly entranced by Luke. Obi-wan felt his mouth curve upwards, into a heartfelt, joyful smile, and found the expression mirrored on Ahsoka's face. Padmé's expression was happy, tired, and devastatingly bittersweet all at once. The same thought was on all of their minds.

Luke and Leia were the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!
> 
> I'm still working on the next part, and won't be posting it next week, because I'll be on vacation (and would likely forget anyway). Hopefully it will just be a one week break and then back to regular Saturday postings. If you want to ask anything in the meantime or just yell about star wars in general, I'm also isabilightwood on tumblr.


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